Torn

Indeed I may have left 

 The pinpricks are yet to heal.

 My aches yet to subside,

 My tears yet to dry

 My hiccups yet to cease.

 May I suffocate and take my last breath?

Perhaps!

 Then shall I cleave to the darkness that riddles my soul?

 Succumbing to its chills.

 Ice upon my cheeks

 Warmth upon my crown 

Dare I dream to awake?

Its arm cuddling safe

Goals into the net - game

 The best I shall enclave

 Enamored of his deep hugs

Summon my refute to lay possum.

The dangers in my pockets

Holey in its khaki envelope

My bruises to the eye of emotions

I live - surviving in the parody

The parallelism of what I was taught

My pillows - the hard cold stone.