Expecting trembling skin,
As the crowd closes in.
Awaiting the mounds of human-quakes,
To spill their hopeless hearts inside the ring.
Impatiently as words rotate,
With agonising slowness.
Eagerly embracing fierceness,
But fooled in an unresponsive pattern.
Unable to tell,
Hours of rehearsed tales.
Pleased for not building a float of lies,
Which used to sink my soul.
Since the pain-screaming individuals around,
Demand bites of my life as a pay for bursting theirs out.