A Jun 2017
I see the future
I see the future and what it holds

It’s not pretty - it’s a deep dark hole

Slowly, I slip in to the recess of the cavity.

Pulling you with me, a helpless casualty.

I will start all over and end repeatedly.

You’ll watch me disappear even though you’re falling with me.

Your love - not safe, as my mind escapes.

Your noose, tightening as my memory fades.

All our days forgotten, our love erased.

While you’re still holding out for hope, I further decay.
To my love, whom I hope to never forget
A Jun 2017
There is silence held by a vacant mind
A silence once craved, now deafening.
In anguish there is noise, resounding beats drumming against you
But all is lost when the drums beat no more.

The dam of emotion once spilt; overflowed.
Now it lies rank, bare - it holds nothing anymore.
In its wake it builds confusion, even a longing for sorrow.
For when it came even the deepest wound found a voice; a flare emerging from the ocean of your soul.

The mind has lost its voice, it can't speak. Dumbstruck!
You're exiled in silence. Not fervor, nor antagonism hold you prisoner.
You are free, in a sense, to roam the abyss of your mind.
Your curse is to forever seek light only to be touched by darkness.
No word, thought, song or feeling to embrace you.

The world reticent, always behind a wall too high to traverse.
Still you walk towards it. Hoping silence will leave your unlit shores.
Illuminated, each soul walks by your side, the same path as yours.
Each glimmering in the vibrance of emotion; the colours of the rainbow.

The door at the wall, the gatekeeper controls.
Each soul passing through with a secret code.

There you stand, denied.
Words making no sound,
"Password please", the keeper asks
And you'd pass, just like the others, if only you could hear.

I can't hear the sound my mind is supposed to be making
A Jun 2017
Obliterated!; all that remains is a blank slate.
Unfeeling, uncaring but somehow still living in a fearful state
The pit in my stomach falls deeper with every breath.
Each breath harder to take as each memory is wiped away.
Delete every dream and want, they're a waste.
Destroy every hope and make sure you know your "destined" fate.
Delete every touch and kiss with haste.
You don't want to but it'll be done eitherway.
It used to be subconscious, now it's taken on a life of its own, sentient.
No longer dependent; it takes everything away.
My mind is no longer my own; my control and life slowly washed away.
A Jun 2017
The order of things, dicatates the state of life.
Of birth and death
Of peace and love.
To be born first, to some, an honour bundled with waves of respect
To the rest, hate, burdened shoulders and the curse of perceptual culpability

To be first is to be condemned to the fate of being a disappointment
To be first is to perpetually fall short in the eyes of the breeder
To be first is to consistently have a target placed on your head
For nothing you do holds value

The second is blessed, the immortal infant.
Always incapable, left in your situationally capable hands.
If the situation permits, you could have done more.
If it doesn't, you didn't do enough and deserve their punishment.

Their is no win in the fight for peace.
You were cursed at birth
As long as you remain in their domain, the breeders and the later bred wear your head on the door nail.
Sometimes, we are just tired older siblings

— The End —