Chess, once a figure fell, you can’t get it back.
Chess, an ordinary pawn can become a queen,
after hard work,
while most of them got sacrificed.
Chess, you have to cover each other to win.
Chess, every figure tries to protect the king.
Chess, once you’re check mate,
you lost and your king will die.
It’s just a question of time.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC
No matter how much bread a wanderer of the desert has,
he will die of thirst.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 3:59 PM UTC
A little bird grew up in the arms of the lord,
while the others found it a comfort,
It felt the arms he hugged it with too tight.
I’m sure that was not the intention.
So it pushed,
It pushed his arms away.
Putting all its strength in,
all its strength so it could breathe.
It was glad,
after years it was free,
the bird escaped from its cage.
But the wind vanished.
Unable to glide it looked for other ways to fly.
The bird was scared,
never learned how to fly else.
Always relied on the wind.
It tried to imitate a plane.
It spread its wings and ran as fast as it could.
But it didn’t get into the air again.
It was exhausted but missed the view.
So the bird started to climb up a tree,
then a hill.
Then it found itself on a huge mountain.
It looked down, it never flew so high, he never got to reach this view.
But it slipped.
Falling from the mountain, it was scared.
It was certain it was going to die,
a panic brew in the little bird.
Before it knew it,
its wings started to move.
And it flew, it glided out of its own strength.
The little bird was still scared, but did not rely on the wind anymore.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 12:06 PM UTC
A little bird grew up in the arms of the lord,
while the others found it a comfort,
It felt the arms he hugged it with too tight.
I’m sure that was not the intention.
So it pushed,
It pushed his arms away.
Putting all its strength in,
all its strength so it could breathe.
It was glad,
after years it was free,
the bird escaped from its cage.
But the wind vanished.
Unable to glide it looked for other ways to fly.
The bird was scared,
never learned how to fly else.
Always relied on the wind.
It tried to imitate a plane.
It spread its wings and ran as fast as it could.
But it didn’t get into the air again.
It was exhausted but missed the view.
So the bird started to climb up a tree,
then a hill.
Then it found itself on a huge mountain.
It looked down, it never flew so high, he never got to reach this view.
But it slipped.
Falling from the mountain, it was scared.
It was sure it was going to die,
a panic brew in the little bird.
Before it knew it,
its wings started to move.
And it flew, it glided out of its own strength.
The little bird was still scared, but did not rely on the wind anymore.
Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 12:06 PM UTC
“What is the earth without the art?”
They yell while cursing about two of the oldest forms of said necessary.
While we thought they were so smart,
they disprove our impression from the start.
Well what is our earth, our world, our universe without the beauty of art?
What is this one life, what am I against the thousand works of art?
How could we preach the value and morals of humanity without the art?
O captain, my captain, I please,
enlighten me.
Who cares about Dafne?
About comique de la Reine?
About the hands which create?
Can’t say if they were great.
Just the bricks we got to build on.
Just the path we had the privilege to walk on.
For whom am I without my voice?
A painter without their brush?
A sculpture without a touch?
Just eh.?
Mar 25
Mar 25, 2026 at 3:16 PM UTC
When I was young,
I loved to play with barbies.
If I just did enough I could be like her.
A politician, an astronaut, a scientist.
Whatever I desired.
To do what I want to do,
Never taking a no for an answer.
When I was young,
teachers often asked for the ‘strong’ boys to carry the desks.
So I carried desks around the room until my hands were sore.
Just so I can prove that I was not weak.
Just so I can prove that we were equal.
Never taking no for an answer.
When I was young,
I loved to put on pink dresses and big ribbons in my hair.
Until they got ***** from the mud.
So I traded my skirt and ribbons for trousers.
So I could play around with the boys.
Never taking no for an answer.
When I was young,
The boys I used to know started to change.
Yelling ‘ew’ when girls walked by.
I just couldn’t understand why.
Other boys being made fun of after they talked to me.
So I distanced myself from them.
To stop their behaviour.
Starting to take no for an answer.
When I was young,
I wanted to be independent.
To sustain my life on my own.
To not ever take a no for an answer.
But now I look into my mirror and being a traditional wife is a calming thought.
No thought I like but a calming thought.
So I remind myself of barbie,
and I start to feel at ease.
Because I want to do what I want to do.
And I don’t want to take a no for an answer.
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 4:33 PM UTC
Well now it’s quiet.
Forgot your name, forgot your face, forgot your voice, forgot your laugh, forgot your fears.
I cried too many tears,
failing to recall your name.
Who are you?
Who is this idea of a person in my mind?
Who I enshrined
but why and when?
Can you introduce your face again?
A stranger who feels like home,
a face I couldn’t forget,
but did forget.
Your words are cheap,
but well known.
I forgot but did you too?
I feel as if you know everything I knew.
Our skin is unaccustomed to one another but our souls are tied by a million knots I oversaw.
Two snowflakes falling from the same cloud just to melt alone.
I feel relief when I hear your unacquainted voice,
was this a choice?
A squirrel in winter,
a deer in summer.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 9:41 AM UTC
I just don’t get a rush from your touch.
I don’t like the feeling it leaves,
like you’re peeling,
the skin off my bones with every touch.
My words do not matter,
because your opinion is always better.
Maybe I’m dramatic
but I’m not hysteric.
I feel your touch even after hours,
it feels like flowers,
flowers trying to grow out of my skin,
just wanting you to win.
trying to show the beauty
but all I see is cruelty.
Mar 11
Mar 11, 2026 at 9:36 AM UTC
I write out my soul,
Every word do I chose out with care.
Though I know it lacks impact,
my voice is unheard,
I still chose to be there.
No I won’t be like Poe or Shakespeare,
Not even while I’m asleep.
No I won’t open eyes or give perspective,
that’s something I never even tried to reach.
Still I chose to write and commit.
And the people who read it respect it.
And my voice can sometimes be heard.
But no matter who much I do write,
I will always choose my words.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 12:57 PM UTC
I mourn the apicity,
I don’t need your pity.
Your endless list of things you studied,
Your eyes filled with colours now seen muddied.
I miss you.
I say as I lie to my own face
Because I never miss you, I miss myself.
I’m the disgraced.
Not the person not the mind.
The memories remained,
Not the version stained.
I may be cruel.
I may have lied.
I know if someone were to paint the truth,
it would not align with my view.
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 10:21 AM UTC