You hear it with ears deaf,
Feel it with your unfeeling,
The silences that weigh like ghosts on gossamer.
Fog that does not lift but only becomes colorless,
Those fine scratches on your back
by invisible tender fingers: claws.
A whisper of pain and pain to come.
You’ve danced with danger for far too long,
Tempted the gods with your impudence,
Your cynicism know no bounds and love is a game to you.
They have listened, tolerated you
Once too many times,
One heartbreak too many,
One drop too many,
the tears born of your selfishness.
Karma has ran out of patience.