They said, "A picture paints a thousand words". I attempted conversely. How many layers do I have to write, To paint you with the words? I hurl with my words, With the freedom of my choice. The boundaries are overthrown, With you, the paramount limit of my imagination Like the sun after rain - Bright and radiant, Like the mist of sulphur - Undeniable presence shielded by the absence, Like the onset of heaven - When the morbid skies vanish to twilight. And my pen continues to swing. Yes, the night divides the day. Running hard to escape till dawn, The child inside the man speaks - The vicinity of lies, where the immortals die Speaks - of the devil's heart with Angel's words. When the growing sadness beholds the ruler, And the wounds of forsaken love gets unleashed Deepening the abyss of endless pain Then nowhere lies the divinity. Who am I, When I don't know myself? You're the answer that makes my question disappear. And how much further, do I have to write, The recurring thoughts of you? It's true! The memories always drag a man backward. O Nietzsche, I'm getting crazy again, Spell me with Amnesia.