Death is not a silent affair; the sobs of the living resonate above my
coffin. I ponder the manner of my demise, never the timing, for each
of our ends have their set dates. Is that the reason why we bring
flowers to the grave, to compliment the date?

When we close our eyes at night, I know a piece of us dies, as a
fragment of our essence fades, dreaming to survive into tomorrow.
Perhaps those who choose suicide are merely those who forget to
wake up again—lost and still trapped in the darkness, searching for
the light, yet some remain forever in the dark.

Death is not a silent affair; anyone's sudden death brings the sound
of tears.

my love hate relationship with chocolate –
cause I really love that it tastes so good,
but hate that there’s never enough, or the
need for me to be sharing it. and to such
a treat, we are slaves; when asked what I
need the most between sugar and life –
I need both.

as I endure the whispers of a late snack –
telling chocolate to meet me at midnight;
even when you tell me too much of it is
unhealthy, please let me love the pleasure,
and let me live with the possibility of having
a few less teeth.

it’s my favourite treat, that if you bought it
for me; I’d do a favour for you in a moment’s
heartbeat – as my heart beats for such a
chocolate feast; I can’t help this chocolate heat.

What kind of person would I be, to love you
even when I don't love all the parts of me...

Would I give you a sense of certainty
even when we don't look so certain to be?

It would be criminal to love me!

The seed in the ground is surrounded by dark –
Under the dark shadow where it’s born,
It waits in hope, every day, every hour
The flower that can only dream of what
It’s meant to be, still as a seed

And the day will come, where it’s hope
Isn’t so dark; for hope begins in the dark –
As you only value a spark when it clears out
The dark; there where life is; you can find
Hope in the most unlikely places

We bear in our eyes, struggles heavy in tears
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years
Close to the edge of a breaking point
But once that beautiful hope finally comes out
Won’t you ask, “where have you been hiding”

Tears running down my face, chasing after the emotions it has to
express – while the flowers rest upon the gravestone of my heart;
I am a heavy sigh, the trembling echoes of regret; still, leave me a
love that I can never forget. As the stench of the night lingers beneath
the phases of the moon, I carry these different faces, depending on
my everchanging mood. And as dreams are summarized under your closed eyes – witnessing those visions come to life, feels like a
blessing in disguise.

There will always be those who care for us, as we’re surrounded by
those who stand around us with different shades of their masks.
Must I be aware of every whisper that tarnishes my name; the ill
spoken against me– for such knowledge breeds a sickness; for even
as pride reveals a man’s vulnerability, the desperate need to validate
oneself, shatters them to hopelessly try and find those fulfilling
pieces.

All the greatness of tomorrow lies in songs yet unwritten; as we
navigate a life of enforced discipline for life is beaten. For mercy
won’t exist unless we give it a reason to live. The love you hope to
receive is also the love you're willing to give. And how long, and
how we'll live, rests on all He permits.

The end of this Untitled Piece.

Cheaters smile the loudest, their lies are the sweetest, their misdeeds
are the quietest – lest it be the ones who get caught. Cheaters play
victim the proudest, their excuses are the longest, their faithfulness is
the shortest – they promise to change, but its short-change.

Cheaters can be the secret sexter; the guys with mistresses, the girls
with a current boyfriend, ready to reply to the other guy with a,
“yes sir,” then introducing them to you as just their friend.

Cheaters love to receive their flowers; being ready to sprout out
looking for more; so rich in wanting more from you – while their
attitude is so poor.

You can pour out your heart to a girl, just for her to spill tea with an
ex; you can listen to a guy pour out his love for you; while he's
hoping his glass of affections, earns him a night of ***.

And unfortunately as you make a deposit of your heart, waiting for
love to withdraw – others bank on the interest of seeing, you without
draws. Heavy is the crown of their ill thoughts; heavy are the lies
waiting in their jaws.

Cheaters happen to be those you thought you had known!

To be human is sometimes being fearful of the unknown—
in a world where malevolence walks among us, where some
are openly evil; yet the most terrifying are those who cloak
wickedness behind an unsuspecting face... those I fear the most!

The love you believe they hold for you is an unknown
The truths they profess to share is an unknown
The appreciation they have for you is an unknown
The value of your value to them is an unknown
The picture of a non-public character is an unknown

And if there are facets of your being, to those you say are close
to you, yet they feel unknown – you were never that close!