Yajiv Rupak
His practice is deception
His smile, his charm, his friendship
A demonic veil smothers his mind
While my happiness lays oblivious to such darkness
For months I dance in its joy
I become consumed in his world.
Just as my fingertips touch the edge of my dreams
It shatters to pieces
The scars beneath my skin surface
And the light shines through
As I come to realise…
What once felt like a blessing
Was indeed torture in disguise.
MOND, A, 'Writers Block', June 2008, Age 22
