They say pain hurts the most when it comes
knocking on our doors unexpectedly,
but I would beg to differ.
The most painful type of pain
takes years to cultivate.
it is when we,
for some reason
become so used to it
to the point that we become numb,
turning into statues of empty souls
dressing up as humans.

I wonder how I've ended back up in this position
dependant on not just a chemical or two, but
dependant on the love of a person
You see, I was not born a human, nor have I lived as one,

I'm used to the beauty of the darkness, for in dark places
beautiful flowers grow, but it takes eyes
shadowed in darkness for decades to see them
and to pluck them, one needs a still heart
that no longer beats with the rhythm of a living being

that darkness has shaped my world, shaped my mind
yet in her voice, her words, and her love
I've found myself slipping from that place
being pulled into one in which I do not know how to live
Here there is light, and sights to be seen
with eyes practiced to the sun

I used to believe the universe whispered to me
and maybe it still does, it's just that it's been so long
since I've listened, that its song is distant
raw, and uncaring

You see the universe is lonely,
that's why it turned into you, and into me,
to be embraced with it's own warmth
to embrace itself in its own desire,
what a simple thing we endeavor, is it not?

By becoming creatures bounded in time, and space,
we've forgotten our true self and along with it
the wellspring of love that created us,
now we seek it, although in lesser forms,
experiencing it with only a few
and the upper casts of beings know this,

Somewhere deep in our subconscious we also understand, and we know that we've forgotten it.

It's just that demons have embraced darkness, and a total absence of love, while we try to fill ourselves with small glimmers plucked from flowers that grow in the sun.

Demons, on the other hand, pluck flowers that grow only in the darkness, and those flowers have power over mortals, they will call to thee and under their spell, you will dream dreams meant for only devas, asuras, demons, and spirits.

This nectar is not meant for humans, yet in our arrogance, we reach for their stock and supply,
and with it we compose beautiful songs and paint beautiful shapes, we piece together majestic art and music that can open the mind, bend it, twist it, and mold it in ways from which it can never retreat.

We create,
Things that even devas desire,

We create,
Things that even demons devour,

But to us humans these things are toxic, they are too much, and we become lost to them.
Such that we call madness is a consequence of reaching too deeply into the well of knowledge with an unbalanced, ignorant, distracted, and frail mind, and in doing so, we forsake everything for the pitifullest glimpse of eternity.

In that place; only gods and asuras may roam freely; humans, on the other hand, are far too greedy,
far too curious, far too ignorant, and far too dangerous to possess such knowledge.

We should stick to light plucked from flowers growing in the sun,
because those flowers which grow in the darkness will only lead to our damnation, the conclusion of our race, and the manifestation of something far more terrible than any of our myths ever suggested.

You smiled as you cut me,
convincing me it was for my own good.

As I bled you smiled,
and queried my current state.

I panicked and cried,
as I saw it seep through my shirt.

I begged for help,
for anything to make it stop.

You looked upon me,
faked pity in your eyes.

‘I wish I could do something to help’,
you could have considered the consequences.

It lies shattered and worn.
So many times, broken before.

I wonder if it can even be mended.
So many tiny pieces to be collected.

I stare at it a long time on the floor.
Considering if I can be bothered anymore.

Hearts and trust are not made to be broken.
But given my record I’d swear that they were.

I have not had one person not betray or abandon.
So, at this point I question my ability to care

and forgive and forget and to love without question
vs my suspicions of lies, deceit, hurt and more pain.

I’m at a crossroads here the choice is love or sense
to risk it all or to walk away.

When I was young,

I found out I could become invisible.

I didn’t notice straight away,

but there were moments over time,

In the day to day where people,

Would see through me,

As though I was air.

It took time to figure out,

As all skills do.

But it seemed the more I desired it,

The more it illuded me.

At the moments I needed it most,

It was not there.

And at the moments I wanted to be seen, or helped, or loved…

It worked.

It arrives,
Unnoticed, unannounced.

Quiet,
At first.

Slow,
Seeping, dripping.

I put it down to a few stressful weeks.
I carry on.

It unpacks,
Worries, anxieties.

Gently,
For now,

Tiptoes,
Whispers, creaks.

‘It will leave soon’ I think ‘It always does.’
I keep going.

It settles in,
Getting comfortable.

Getting louder,
And louder.

Banging thoughts,
Insomnia.

‘Please don’t be happening again’.
I shuffle along my daily routine.

Claws in,
Insidious.

Screaming,
24/7.

Shame, worthlessness,
Hurt.

‘Please go away’.
I’m barely coping.

Growing roots,
Into my brain and heart.

Blossoming pain,
With every beat.

Emptiness, loneliness,
Abandonment.

Silence, Stillness,
‘I can’t move, I can’t cope.’

I loathe myself for loving you
Despise the way I care
I continue to throw myself at your feet
Lay my heart out bare

You are self-centered and thoughtless
Living your life without regard
For a child you left behind
Is saying “I love you” really that hard?

Why do you distance yourself?
Is it because I remind you of my dad?
All the pain you caused
And the life you could have had?

Though I walk a fine line
Of replicating your mistake
I know I won’t
The thought makes my chest ache

I want to repair our relationship
I long to let my heart mend
Make up for lost time
Before we reach the end