In a small pond, I was a big fish.
Oh my poor eyesight,
just a small fish with a narrow mind.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 7:05 AM UTC
A heart that burns with hate,
to pass this sea that has no name.
The sea's hate is deep— more than mine.
The sun and moon play hide and seek,
23 days— the same scene.
I cross the sea— in hope of a new me.
At last, I see the shore,
a grave, a quote:
"There is no love for a heart with no form"
Ash falls from my chest,
all my hate with no heart to burn.
I laugh at my end— the pair in the sky,
poisoning my eyes till my heart burns.
Raziel Vale
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 1:00 PM UTC
A mad man laughing crazily outside a hospital,
just a lighter in his bleeding hand.
Smell of burning wood,
screams drowning in fire and blood.
Blue pajamas he wore, red streaks of liquid
all over him,
No.413.
Firetruck and ambulance arrive.
But it was too late, only silence
prevailed, along with crackling noises.
" I never did anything to them. "
he said to a charred corpse.
" You people didn't believe me. "
With an exaggerated smile, he claimed
" It was the truth you people created—
Not me. "
Raziel Vale
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 5:54 AM UTC
Room with no light.
A rat still runs in loops for days.
The cat waits in the dark,
its blood, just cold.
The cat's new born waits for food—
as she preys on the weak.
The cat makes its move.
The rat has no way out.
Blood that stains the rat red.
In a frame that hangs, I look down—
a dead man with a dead pet.
Pathetic.
Raziel Vale
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 7:47 AM UTC
A furry, small, brown being.
Tongue inviting milk into his mouth,
drops sticking on his white mustache.
Tail swaying, his turquoise eyes staring—
like the tail is not his.
Chasing at day till his paws ache,
at night, I fly till darkness covers me.
Flapping my ink soaked wings,
Wind weighs on my shiny feathers.
Oasis in deserts, wasteland in cities.
My bluish grey eyes lost in the mirror—
a shattered image in this dark night.
Hands leaking scarlet liquid,
a man stares at a fragmented mirror.
Wiping the red from the cracks,
I saw the man— no
that man is me.
Raziel Vale
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 5:59 AM UTC
Under a tree, green and gold.
In white and black, a man preaches,
standing in the middle of an ocean—
of people.
They scour their ears digging answers out,
the man's mouth spoke.
A diamond in sludge, they thought.
Only if they knew this man was
my patient—
mouth without a mind.
Raziel Vale
May 4
May 4, 2026 at 7:07 AM UTC
Summer rain unlike the rain that
arrives at monsoon,
is welcomed with smiles that affect
even her mood.
The soil holds incense that produces
her favorite fragrance.
The thunder announcing her arrival,
she wears lightning with pride on her face.
Humans dance in her mere presence.
The sun hides itself away with each step
she takes.
But even such a powerful being has no will
of her own.
Clouds turn black to white,
she traces her path back— humbled.
A promise she made, cutting her own hand.
As it dropped on the land, bursting into colours.
Till I come back— she said.
Disappearing like she never existed in the first place.
Only the huge broken, colourful bracelet remained to speak of her existence.
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 12:17 PM UTC
They wear masks on the stage.
Dancing with a smile, their feet like
feathers on the floor.
The crowd applauds for their performance.
They bow till their face vanishes.
Like a flock of swans they disappeared.
Did the stage like their performance?
Their feathers dyed in black, at least in my eyes.
The script lived, even though not written by them.
The lights turned off, people went home.
I stood there staring at the dark stage,
My students dancing, spreading their white wings for people
to smile.
Raziel Vale
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 6:04 AM UTC
Broken is my leg, unlike the other.
My right laughing at my other,
nothing stings me more than seeing them like this together.
Blood soaking the bandages,
like a child's scribbling on my leg.
Why does it have to be like this?
Why can't you be like the other?
I still remember the days you both played together,
now one laughing at my other.
How can I live without my other?
I come out of surgery.
Amputated, covered in white cloth and medicine.
Tears fall on the other— that laughs at my weakness.
But don't you dare lie— under that scornful laughter
I see you mourn.
Raziel Vale
May 2
May 2, 2026 at 12:47 AM UTC
In a store full of colourful linen,
red or black, my fingers hesitate.
Like silk they slid between my fingers,
no difference except their colour.
I wore the black in the dressing room,
fitting my body, like a second skin.
Better than red I thought,
because black is my favorite.
Red was just a colour I passed by.
I walk out, black linen in my bag.
Years later, I am sure you will hear me say—
Red was better, yet black is my favorite.
I know black is better suited— yes
it is definitely better suited to me.
Raziel Vale
May 1
May 1, 2026 at 3:57 PM UTC