disease and war go hand in hand
covid wasn't a war but it felt like one

she leaves the diamond ring on the dresser
alongside the hand written letter
being his wife was meant to take a lifetime
but vows can be broken
people change their minds

i cannot comprehend this
what makes sense is senseless
this senselessness is endless
so in the end i comprehend
enough to play pretend
but common sense tells me
that wars create sores
that are more or less forever
i cannot comprehend this letter
so i better carry on with this
senselessness which is endless
unless perhaps i end this my self

the person in the mirror is an old, old friend of mine
you would think that she would be my enemy
judging on my history
but time has a way of redefining judgement
experience has a way of re-evaluating importance
grace has a way of breaking down pride

the person in the mirror is constantly evolving
sometimes so much so that she does not align with me
she will be my neighbor
she will be my mother
she will be a perfect stranger
she will be everything else in between

the person in the mirror sees the finish line
before i have tied my laces
before i have found the beginning
she will coach me in a way
that no other can perceive
before i even know it
we will both be in a place no one can see

the person in the mirror is an old, old friend of mine
she used to be my critic
she used to be my opponent
but love has a way of healing the deepest childhood wounds
peace has a way of emerging after endurance

you say you know everything
so in fact
you know nothing
about humility

he said,
babe you're running out of
false alarms
your arms are full of trial scars
i say,
self care is the same as
self harm
when the so called help
put self on the shelf
and chaos conquers calm
when a cry for help
is seen as
a cry for attention
a life can become
a hell of a life sentence
because everything
is a false alarm
when everyone else can
but you can't
i'm running out of false alarms
one day i will be truly armed
when i finally do it
you won't be around
it will take you ten years
to believe
when you finally do
you will still blame me

Don't tell me the truth
I already know
I found our your secret
Give me one more moment to feign ignorance

i'm finding my way back to you
step by tentative step
one day we'll look back at this
with no more regret
i'm finding my way back to you
step by loving step

I thought the flies were my friends
Because there were so many around me
Then I realised I was dead
Now it all makes so much sense

Journals stack up around me
Words upon words upon words
Does anybody read the lines that took me a lifetimes to write?
Does anybody feel the emotions that I felt?
When I filled these pages with a thousand words

Journals stack up around me
I keep them in storage box
Will anybody open them when I am no longer alive?
Will anybody realise what it meant for me to write?
Or will these verses simply fade away,
Forgotten?