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The darkness is coming,
You know this all too well.
You can see the drowning sun
Feel the breath of the icy wind
As the night stretches its claws across the sky

The darkness is coming.
And there's nothing you can do
But watch as the last rays of light shatter
And your fragile hope flickers,
Fading into ash.

The darkness is coming
You wait with dread
As ink bleeds into the sky,
And shadows crawl from the cracks
To dance upon your fears.

The darkness is coming
You fight for your life
But the shadows coil around your lungs,
Dragging you down,
Where your screams are swallowed whole.

The darkness is coming
And you almost welcome it,
Letting it pull you under,
Where broken dreams and forgotten prayers
Linger in the void.

The darkness is coming.
So you surrender,
Eyes closed,
Heart still beating—
Waiting for whatever comes next.
I remember
The days
I grew up
Beaming,
Laughter threading through the halls
Like echoes that knew my name.

And when I left
My only regret
Was never hearing them sing
The ode to me.

Still,
I knew
I mattered to them.
Their words I'll keep
In the folds of my heart
Or tucked away in lines of code

But this year
They're silent.
And I stand outside,
Face to the sky,
I pray for rain to fall
So I will not weep alone.
Taking care to remember everyone
Only to be forgotten in the end

God I was so happy last year...
As a child I wondered what it'd be like to be an angel
Soaring through the heavens on white feathers, playing golden harps in tune with the whistling of the wind.

And so I stepped onto flightless wings and let their hands guide me to the skies.
I looked up,
Up to where the the clouds floated
Where the winds lifted my hair with mischief and whispered songs of freedom
Where the ground was but a memory miles away
Where my fingertips felt like they could touch the infinite blue

...

Now, as I fall, I think mournfully to myself
What a childish dream it was, to think I could ever leave the shackles of the ground

And yet...
And yet
I find myself 10 again
Waiting for the next brush of heaven
Written on a swing.
He spent
One day
In air's embrace
To carve a path away from home
And lived a week of dreams come true.

She spent
Two days
Locked in her room
Staring at the untouched plate
A step, yet miles away from her bed.

He celebrated
Three birthdays
All alone.
Christmas and the New Year too
And his wishes started to change.

She lay,
Four days,
In humid room
No hands providing cool respite,
To feed her soup, or offer love.

She wakes
At five.
Thirty missed calls
From mom, who woke at four
To help her daughter out of bed

He counted
Six months
Since he last saw
His brother, who left before him.
Both hearts an ocean away from home

They found new family
New home
New strength
They cried
And sang
In foreign words
Yet all in the language of love
Some scholars in my choir shared their struggles about leaving home. They have gone through so much and become so so strong.
I still can’t help but think, “they were only 12 when they left.”
I can’t seem to name
This feeling

Not hunger—
I had breakfast.
Not fatigue—
I slept a full 8 hours last night.
Not laziness—
PE was today
Not stress—
Exams are over. For now.
Not sadness—
But not happiness either.
Not fear—
My heart beats slow.
Not loneliness—
I’m surrounded by people.
Not guilt—
I’ve done nothing wrong
Not peace—
This fog doesn’t count
Not confusion—
I don’t care right now
Something’s still missing
But maybe it’s alright
I’m finding the pieces as I write
Lostling Mar 9
Drumming
Drumming
Drumming
Of fingers on my leg
Drowning out your every word; continues berate.
My muscles keep on jumping
Like popcorn on a stove
Or raindrops beating ******* roofs. The tempo only grows.
There’re hornets swarming in me
And humming through my skin
I have to let them out, you see, I cannot keep them in
There’s water in my ears
And fog behind my eyes
Yet you’re still telling me to sit still and listen to your cries
But I am like a toothbrush
The buzzy buzzy kind
The only way to make me stop is switching off my mind.
Believe me when I say that
I’d pause if I knew how
But I can’t, just like how you can’t keep your mouth from running now
Is it so hard to let me fidget in peace???

One very frustrated poem =P
Lostling Mar 6
I wear
Mismatched socks—
yellow and blue.
Tie my hair off-center,

A quiet defiance
Against the perfection
Society demands

They call it chaos.
I call it freedom.
To me,
Imperfections are beautiful.
Stand out from the crowd
Instead of blurring into the background,
An idea left to waste.
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