You are taking a walk.
The weather is perfect. The sky is cloudy, but it isn't raining, and a cool breeze is blowing. Its soothing you. You are content. Relaxed. You are walking down the empty road, thinking of your lover/crush/ex/bestie/anyone close to you; wishing to talk to him/her, imagining yourself in a hilarious convo with him/her, holding his/her hand in yours as you walk. You couldn't be happier (or gloomier).
On the way you happen to pass a river. Being in the mood that you are, you decide to loiter near it. The view is great. Gentle tides pushing away the present.
You start walking playfully on the concrete barrier. Suddenly you trip over a rock; reaching out your hand for support, you find nothing. A sharp chill runs through your heart.
You scream out loud,though somewhere amongst the quick thoughts in your mind you know you are going to plunge into the water.
Before you know it the cold water touches you. Splashes and drops surround you. You beat frantically your restless arms, but only cold fluid flowing. Helpless... You reapeat your ****** movements over and over again. Legs trying to run away to safety; but there's no ground. No support. Your head goes under water.. Eyes open ; you breathe in the cool liquid. You try to cough out the water, but end up taking in more and more water.
Your body starts moving down towards the bottom. You are tired. You try. But it's not enough to get out. Exhausted.. and starting to feel numb.. and sleepy and tired and all those feelings creeping in. You see leaves floating.. Feel the fish slide against your skin.. But you can't respond. You lose consciousness in between . You cease.
All your dreams, all your thoughts, all the things that made you you, its no more. Mere chemical reactions in the brain. Your mind doesn't exist to even acknowledge that you existed. Or that you died. Not a slight trace of you in that motionless body...
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 6:44 AM UTC
I know why the caged bird sings.
It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.
It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.
He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.
He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.
He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.
He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.
He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.
The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.
I know why the caged bird sings.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 6:59 AM UTC
The end was never the end;
It was just a pause,
A break from the maze,
To clear the fog,
So you could start fresh.
And the start was never just a start;
It was the beginning of a new end.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 10:56 AM UTC
I still believe we can work this out
Even though silence is all that prevails between us.
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
and once again here i am
not knowing what's even flowing through my fingers
hoping ,
this will soften the things floating around my mind.
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
When you realise you're holding onto a dead bird
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 9:27 AM UTC