People call it a cage, but I call it my room
I was born here, this is my very home
The lights are starting to shine
Is it already showtime?
The spotlight in the middle of the arena,
All eyes on me.
You yell, and I put on a show for you.
Your demand reaches my ears,
Your words are my commands,
Commands I Follow without questioning.
My only purpose is to entertain you,
My only desire is to hear you cheer.
You deserve it
You are better than me
I'm just a useless beast.
I got hurt?
It does not matter,
The show must go on.
After all, this show is for you specifically.
All of you are important
Let me be your slave
It would be a pleasure.
Make fun of me
Make me feel miserable.
Just don't hate me
It would ruin my purpose.
Do you hate me?
Am I not entertaining you?
I will change how I look!
I can make you laugh!
I can act better!
I will torture myself if I have to.
Is that not enough?
I can do better.
Just tell me what you want
I will do anything to please you
Am I still not enough?
WHAT DO YOU WANT?
I PROMISE I CAN DO IT!
Am I not entertaining anymore?
I CAN SAVE YOU THE WORK
i will **** myself
anything to satisfy my audience.
The sweet breeze of air,
I hate it,
I prefer to be in a room,
inside my house,
Calm and silent.
Surrounded by loneliness,
because it is the only thing that loves me.
I hate being alone.
It worries and depresses me.
I hate myself.
I am not like anyone,
I don't belong anywhere.
And society is too messed up.
Am I glad that I am unique?
I hate to be confused.
It means I have to think the problem out.
But would I really want to know all the answers?
What's the fun of knowing everything?
What's the fun of being dumb?
I hate being short
It makes me feel special
I'm sometimes so scared of death,
I want to die
Maybe this is why I have never been in a relationship
Do I want to be in one?
I don't want people's attention
I just want them to listen to me
A fine night
Or so you thought
The moon decided to hide today
And even though not much on the ground is visible,
There is a showcase of stars in the sky.
You are sitting in your room
Looking out the window
Admiring the display of lights,
In the middle of your peace
You hear the echo of an intruder
The sound of someone demanding to get in
Could it be?
This late in the night?
Who would be brave enough?
Who would be willing to leave their residences, an hour past midnight, in order to get to you?
Maybe you just imagined it
Maybe the sound was nothing but a phantom of your imagination.
You decide to ignore it
And you resume your imagination
You let it pull you closer to the stars
Your whole existence revolves around the beauty of nature
It pulls you back to reality
You start to realize
Someone whats to get in
And you ignored them.
Your mind lacks the creativity to think
To think of the reason
Or the identity
Of the living soul standing at your door
You try looking out the window
Maybe a look at their face might turn the gears in your head
But the web of constellations only light the sky
And the ground remains blind
Knock Knock Knock
What a stubborn being!
Can't it have a bit of patience?
What could possibly be so urgent?
What could he possibly have to discuss at this hour?
Knock Knock Knock Knock
You leave your window
And march down the stairs
This being could not possibly be related to you
You finally reach the door and touch the ****
A thought strikes your mind
As sudden and powerful as when a firework reaches the sky
There was only one answer
Only one reason behind the why
Only one exception for peace in this marvelous night
This being was being chased
This person was trying to hide
This creature was in danger
It was asking for your attention
It was asking for your help
Was it too late?
Had the lonely soul left?
It was still there!
There was still hope
There is no time to waste
Your hand wraps around the handle of your door
Full of impatience
You pull open the door to the entrance of your house
You let the darkness embrace your entrance
The silhouette of the beast in the distance
You don't manage to see the face of the thing your just salvaged
Because the bullet was quicker than your eyes.
I am jealous of spiders
Those small, poisonous creatures
They don't care how small they are
Or how weak they are
They fight for their life despite the conditions
They hunt their prey without hesitation
They can enter any room
They don't need your permission
They all know their purpose
They all fight for their purpose
They catch or become food
They can create their world however they want
No one tells them how to connect their strings
They are clever
That's what makes them deadly
They are small
That's what extends their limits
They are selfish
That's what helps them survive
Their tiny-dark eyes
Those small marbles that extend their vision to places the human eye could never reach
Their infestation of twisted legs
Those agile limbs that move them with surprising speed and balance through any kind of frictional surface
They exist in every corner
Creep through every opening
They could crawl up your skin,
Plant their deadly kiss under the tissues of your outer layers,
Leading you to an agonizing swell of chemicals that tare and torture your nerves and muscles
The aftereffects are as countless as the number of their species
And if you are lucky enough,
You could have one of these
You could have all of these
They don't care
They are spiders,
And for them
You are a their predator
And their next victim
This might sound like a threat. Sorry for that. This is just a small picture of what goes through my head when I see a spider. You will be their next victim...
When my feelings are twisted and my mind distorted,
Hand me a knife
Hand me a knife to slice away my sorrow
To distract my depression with blood
To remember the number of times I felt miserable
One scar at a time
Hand me a knife to tear open my skin
So some of the sewage of my body can leave through the opening that I make
It does not hurt when I make the cut
It only burns a little afterwards
I promise the knife will not get close to my throat
or at least I don’t think so
You don’t have to see the cuts
They can hide under my sleeves
Just hand me a knife!
You will never suspect I used it
It will not be the first time
It will not be the last time
That I paint a silver knife with my own blood
I promise it will be fast
I will cut,
Wash the knife,
And greet you the next morning
As if nothing ever happened
You stole my attention since the first time I saw you.
You stole my breath once you started talking to me.
Your charm managed to wound me up.
Even when this toy had lost its batteries.
This bandit has stolen all of my being.
You are magnetizing,
I can't get myself to look away from you
A simple gaze at you melts all of the ice that gathers around my heart.
Your presence is bittersweet
When your eyes are on me, all of my body becomes your puppet, and I stay motionless.
My eyes, to scared of leaving yours, and too scared to keep looking at them.
I crave and dread your gaze.
When you get close, I can feel the warm of your body.
It relaxes my muscles and calms my mind.
Be that as it may, you sometimes come closer than what I expect
The sudden surprise of heat shocks me into place
With your body close to mine,
My skin starts to shiver
You break through my house of confidence,
Weaken all of my defenses,
And steal my heart right out of me
I love your personality.
A personality I can relate to even though it is far more admirable than mine.
You have beauty
Not only in your magnetic looks
But in your perseverance and humanity
It gives you a strength beyond physical
You have taken my admiration with you.
I love your voice,
A melody of its own.
The simphony reaches my ears,
And they ask for more.
I love your interests .
There is always something to learn from you
Not once have I gotten bored.
I love your smile.
The way it stretches across your face,
It shines more than just light within every laugh.
I love your flaws
They remind me you are human
Despite the perfection you have reached
You have robbed my bank of words
The sugar sweet phrases I had never used
Now exist in your box of memories
I love this magnificent thief
He has taken my heart...
And I don't mind if he keeps it for a while
Is this what it's like to fall in love?
I detest when people ask: are you OK?
It gets even worse when it proceeds to: what's going on?
I avoid the answer to these questions, for their answer is neither clear nor joyful.
I wish they would never ask
I wish they would just stay quiet
They think they know what I have
They think they know what I need
I don't need their attention
I don't want their attention
I Just want to be in an empty room...
Where the only sound is the echo of my thoughts...
And I don't have to talk...
But they come back....
I want them to leave.
I don't want them to wonder about me.
Leave me alone.
Stop torturing me.
Only then can I torture myself
I remember I used to use it a lot more a long time ago. I would go up to any adult just start talking about the first thing that crawled into my infant head. I never lacked the knowledge or courage to start an interesting talk, but they told me to stop getting into other people’s conversations, so I stood quiet.
I used to have a great sense of sarcasm and a contagious shine that I always carried around. I would laugh my head off at every single thing I found funny, but they told me that I was being too loud, so I stood quiet.
They told me to always say the truth, and to keep their secrets. They told me to follow their orders, and to not answer back. They told me that they knew best and all along I stood quiet.
Just like that, they slowly cut my vocal cords one by one, and I stood quiet because I could not say anything wrong…
If I didn’t say anything.
As the years went by, my voice kept getting more used to being out of order. Its silence was so strong that I would have to force it to work when I was around them.
There was a point where they started uncomfortable with the absence of my voice, so they tried to make me open up to them. However, it was too late for that. I could no longer push my broken voice to do things it was not used to do, no matter how much I wanted it to.
They closed my voice, and I’m not ever opening it up to them again.
Be that as it may,
I don’t know, though, if my ears will be able to keep up with my voice.
The rose sits
The rose waits
The rose does not talk
The rose does not walk
The rose hangs down
The rose keeps a frown
The rose is permanently stuck
The rose is consequently plucked
A crystal ball, with only one goal that it set for itself.
A crystal ball, with the power to change shape and color at will, whose only purpose was to satisfy.
It went around, looking for who it would be a victim of.
It finally finds a lonely soul, and with the goal to satisfy, it changes to the soul’s favorite color: blue.
Once it had finally pleased the lonely soul, the crystal ball went away, proud for what it had achieved.
However, the crystal later on stumbled into another soul who detested the color blue, so the crystal changed its color to yellow in order to satisfy it.
After that, it met another individual who looked down upon spheres, so it changed shape in order to please the individual.
As it met more and more people, it changed even more, up to the point where it had no comparison to its original look, all just in order to please whoever it met.
But no matter what color or shape it changes into, it will never be able to gain everyone’s satisfaction.
Have you ever wanted something so badly,
You would do anything to get a hold of it?
Ever wanted something so badly,
You can't help but avoid it?
The simple thought of not having it boils you blood.
Your mind takes you far
You wonder, and imagine
Just what could you do if you had a grasp of it...
But you don't have it,
And the only thing that you can do is dread it.
It is impossible to get your attention away from it,
For everything reminds you of it.
It tortures you,
And it pleasures you.
It leaves you with a bittersweet scent.
One question remains
Would you be dangerous without it,
Or with it?
How far would you go to get it,
How far would you go to keep it?
Once you have it,
Would you ever let it go?
Putrid looking liquid
It has no shine or color
It does not have a definite shape
It does not have a soft smell
It is not see-though or crystal-like
A horrifying sight with a deadly taste.
It is not healthy
It is not gorgeous
It is a dead material that can only turn into an unpleasant puddle.
It does not matter what it is
If not what can be created with it
What people call the most powerful tool can come from a puddle of ink.
They call it words
Words create ideas
Ideas create stories
Stories create motivations
Motivations create impacts
Impacts create change
And change shapes history.
Once you use ink wisely,
You will want to have as much ink as you could possibly have.
I put it on once I wake up; looking at the mirror would be too painful.
Once I get to school, the mask greets everyone with a smile, letting everyone think that I’m having a good day in order to hide my cries of depression.
Everyone in school knows my mask. Everyone in school likes the mask. I like the mask too; it keeps my secrets away from everyone.
I sometimes ask myself if people would still like me the same if I took the mask off.
Nonetheless, the mask stays in the place it has always been, keeping at least five of my secrets away from everyone.
Once I get home, the mask greets my family with the same fake smile, and I keep it on because my family does not deserve the torture to know me.
If they saw my face, doubt would fill their eyes, for they would never be able to recognize me.
At the end of the day, once everyone is at a safe distance from me, I take the mask off, and I let the monster I am reveal itself through silent screams and unnoticed tears.
I finally let my body rest in sleep so that it can be ready to repeat the cycle tomorrow.
They are flat surfaces that show your surroundings in their own dimension.
They are windows, made with the most perfect glass, in which you can take a look at what everyone sees when they see you.
They will never show you lies, they will just show your reality from their point of view.
You can always trust them.
Such a fine glass does not deserve your hate when it shows your reflection, for it is on your how they view your reality, and it is on you how you view your reflection.
Either way, they are just showing you their opinion.
— The End —