Good news is that it was his birthday
bad news was that two important people
were not going to attend this one
their was balloons and decorations and even a cake
some of his friends dropped off birthday presents at his doorstep
the only thing he was waiting for now was his parents
so when they get home they can watch him blow out his candles
he stared at the clock watching time pass
the moon was appearing itself in the sky
indicating that it is now night time
he started to get very sleepy and accidentally slept on the couch
until a few hours later he feels someone shrugging his shoulder
he opens his eyes and sees both his parents smiling at him
he jumps with glee and hugs both of them
then he took both of their hands and dragged them to where the birthday cake was located
the parents sang happy birthday
and with one big puff he blew out his candles

after the special occasion
he playing with his new toys in his room
until he heard the telephone ringing
he picked it up thinking it was a friend of his
but he realized later it was a voicemail
“hey champ it’s your dad, I forgot to tell you sooner that me and your mom have to go on a business trip and we’ll be back next week, sorry we had to miss your birthday but we promise we’ll make it up to you when we get back” from dad
the voicemail was made a few minutes ago
he put the telephone down and wondered
“if my parents are on a business trip, who is in my house?”

“Don’t let anger escape from your mouth“
my father once told me

now those words are glued onto my mind
so whenever I get the feeling of rage boiling inside my body in high temperatures
I just shut my mouth
and swallow my fury down my throat
even though it hurts
but it’s better that I hold down this emotion
then express it to the wrong crowd

I write with a bull point pen
you choose to write with a finger ,
in a universe where stars burn bright to show their existence
I write on a sheet of paper then crumble it away with shame
but you write without a doubt in mind
letting your messages run through quantum caves

after finding the urge to share my questions I write
“What is your world like?” I asked
“Do you wear faces, do you wear masks?
Do trees grow tall without touching the clouds,
do rivers run wide not caring about a dead end near?
does your moon light the ocean’s tides
so that it can be seen as a sign for the lost souls?”
after waiting for a while you finally responded

From the other end comes a reply,
etched in symbols that twist and fly:
"Our moons are many to count on all our fingers,
our skies are green but change drastically to match the seasons,
our thoughts are shared to one another, but not often seen.
We do not speak, but here we write,
to know your dreams, your days, your nights.
Your sun seems warm, and your air sounds sweet;
how strange that our words have made us meet."

as letters drift through time and space.
Each missive bridges voids unknown,
a friendship built through words alone.
And though we’ll never meet in form,
our hearts will beat warm through cosmic storms

one small table
two chairs opposite of one another
a small pistol was on top of the table
and a small bullet was next to it
their was a timer on the wall
counting down every minute
two doors open
two men walk out of opposite doors
they sit in their seats
ready for the game to commence

(Round 1)
the first man takes the pistol, puts the bullet in, reloads, then sets the loaded pistol down
the moment the pistol touched the table
the second man quickly snatches it
points it to the first man’s head
and then pulls the trigger
but nothing came out
the first man didn’t say anything
he just stared at the other man with numbness in his eyes

(Round 2)
the second man picks the pistol up once again
doing the exact same thing
he pulled the trigger
this time the bullet shot out
but since he had very careless aim
he slightly missed his opponent
the bullet ended up grazing against the first man’s face
but he didn’t react to it
he still continued to stare
another bullet appears on the table again out of nowhere but no one questioned it

(Round 10)
time passed
round after round
the first man’s didn’t say a single word
bullet wounds were all over his body
but he didn’t move an inch
throughout the rounds
he never even picked up the pistol
he just sat there
as if he was waiting for something

(Round 25)
the final match has finally begun
the second man had a smirk on his face
since zero bullet wounds were on him
while the first man looked like a punching bag filled with holes
but he didn’t care
“to be honest, I really don’t get why you’re letting me win this game” the seconds man said
while reloading the pistol
the first man started to mumble his words quietly
“what did you say?” the second man questioned
the first man still continued to mumble his words
“hey I’m talking to you!” The second man said
he raised the pistol to the first man’s head
he pulls the trigger
no bullet comes out
“who said that I was gonna let you win?” the first man said
he quickly pulls out a knife from his pocket
leaps over the table and pulls the second man down
stabbing him 25 times
after he made sure the second man was dead
he removed the bullets from his body
his wounds start to regenerate quickly
leaving his skin looking untouched
he looks down at his dead opponent
“now who said bringing a gun to a knife fight would be a good idea?” he said

an itch that didn’t go away was one I can’t ignore
this tingling feeling leaving traces on every centimeter that makes my body whole
when I try to ignore it only gets worse as if it wants me to shake this devastating annoyance that circles around my insides
it was as if maggots have found a way to make themselves invisible and start to chew their way from my flesh
all the way into where my circulatory system is located
and when it is done with this draining process it will began to create holes as a way to exit my inner skin and start leaving marks on my outer skin tissue that will torture me with agony
if I were to interfere with it or rather yet scratch it off
it will just do nothing to fix it

so I thought to myself
“maybe I should just rip it off..”
and so I tried to do that but it didn’t work
I used a sharp blade to try and slice the anguish of my skin
but it still left remnants that I can’t bear to look at again
I then try to use a butcher knife but the moment I try to press the steel blade on one of the maggots it chewed onto the steel
until there was nothing left but the handle
the only option I had left was to use fire
and so I did just that
I found a whole jug of gasoline from the garage
splashed it over my body
found a lighter and lit a match
and let the fire commence onto my body
the maggots started to scream with pain
as their unsymmetrical bodies started to melt
during that moment I felt a beautiful euphoria
even though I knew I was burning with the maggots too
but I was delighted that my sudden itch has been lifted away

I made my mother cry one day
it was from a accident I had done
and on that same day
I knew what she viewed me as
I wanted to apologize for my actions
but she only heard the sound of the man she despised
echoing through my voice
when I realized what she saw within me
I began to tear my face apart
but I couldn't
never in my life have I thought
I have turned into the person
I didn’t want to become
the feeling of ashamed
running through my veins
pouring through my tears
and ever since that unfortunate moment
I began to cover every mirror in my path
worried about seeing him
through my reflection
And every time I saw my face
through the mirror’s gaze
I feared I'd see his trace.
So I covered every mirror near,
hiding from the growing fear.
But running never heals the past,
and hiding shadows doesn't last.
One day I stood and faced the glass,
and saw myself no longer masked.
I found my mother, soft but strong,
and told her where I had gone wrong.
She held my hand and let me see
I wasn't him but just simply me