I can’t always be warm.

Sometimes I’m a cold cemetery
That only welcomes bones,
Broken hearts, tragedies,
Lips that haven’t talked for days,
And souls controlled by parasitic grief.

Other times I’m a battlefield
That has seen chaos,
Rage, bloodshed, and death.
I’ve witnessed aftermaths
And how soldiers become winged.

At times I tried to be a home
That promotes rest, growth, and warmth,
But I guess I’m just an empty place —
Ordinary, plain,
Replaceable.

Raindrops kissing my eyebrows,
I regretted leaving the house.
I looked around and saw strangers
With huge weight on their shoulders.

Empty stomachs falling in line
With minds barely stable,
Was it a new adventure to define
Or just another day to feel small?

Arm wrestling with time,
We’re all heading somewhere —
Finding words that rhyme
Or just a breath of fresh air.

And when the sun slowly decays,
All we need is a resting space.

But as the streets grew darker,
I could only write a poem,
For I am a worn-out wanderer
Who missed the last train home.

Moonlit debris falling like snow
From the once-towering houses,
The boiling ground will make you tiptoe
As the city’s about to turn into ashes.

The sounds of shrieks and fading screams
Will be much louder than faith and hope.
You can only trust your remaining limbs,
For there will be no time to cope.

Behind the stench of burnt trees
Is a growing desire for rain —
Just to remember where your heart is,
Just to keep yourself sane.

But it’s too late now.

You will need more than water,
You’ll need more than seers —
‘Cause I set the world on fire
With these flammable tears.

A cup of coffee after another —
I tried hiding behind a memory,
Only to be caught by the thought
Of losing you.

But above, an aerial war zone,
Whose fragments fall down
Like soldiers returning home,
Becomes louder than fear.

Loud flashes of light never stopped
Nor did they bother me at all.
In fact, I would keep one in a jar,
But I already have thousands within.

You’d say I must be mad
For wanting the city to drown,
But a song can’t save me now,
So I’ll just listen to the rain.

Aren’t you bothered by those children
Calling out for the Grim Reaper?

Have you come across the ******* dog
Feasting on the remains of your will to live?

Can’t you see those bloated butterflies
Feeding on your recurring thoughts?

Look at those unburied skeletons
Of the dreams we had to break.

Have you seen how lost souls
Wander with their unreliable feet?

Have you heard the wailing
Of the monster you have become?

Do you still shelter the parasite
That breathes through your pain?

Have you witnessed how a heart
Becomes so used to tragedies?

Listen to the echoing lullaby
Of a dwindling spark of hope.

Have your eyes met the past
Of both the loud and the silent walls?

Doesn’t a single unshared scar
Keep you up all night?

Have you retrieved your mind
That constantly dwells in the future?

Have you forgotten the false hope
We used to distract ourselves with?

Do you still smell the silhouettes of trauma
Lingering in your daydreams?

While most nightmares awaken the asleep,
These ones make us want to sleep more.

In this chaotic world of uncertainty,
I long to be scared with you.