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 Sep 2019 Rafael Gonzaga
Kushal
I'm scratching over pages,
The words just won't come out.
I'm running out of patience,
And my fear's paired with my doubt.
I'm losing track of time,
But I still know that it's been too long.

When was the last time, I tried to write a love song?
When was the last time, I tried and it all went wrong?
I'm losing my grip on my heart,
My lonely heart,
It's tearing me apart.

I don't remember how it felt last time,
Just that you felt like mine,
And then it all went wrong.
I guess i waited too long,
Didn't take my chance,
But oh, how I wished to see the stars with you,
And hoped that we could dance.
I could see forever,
But you couldn't see me,
And now I'm out here,
Writing songs while feeling lonely.

So now I try to hold on,
To the glimpse I knew,
I remember all the trauma that followed,
But I was always happy...
With you.
 Sep 2019 Rafael Gonzaga
putiira
Your heart is the color of
the sunset seen
through
tear filled eyes.
I've grown so accustomed to this numbness.
It spreads through my body
like wildfire
consuming dry skin and chapped lips.
It overtakes all of me, fills my being
from stomach to heart and
eventually my mind.
It begins to feel like brush on the forest floor,
stale and easy to catch
but quick to burn up.

------------------------------------------------------------­---------

Our ship is sinking
so quickly.
Blink and you miss
all the little moments we could have had
that you failed to see.
Your blindness and My complacency
like cannonballs
punching holes in our vessel
and me in the stomach.
You don't even seem to care Captain.
We're patching up a sinking ship with bandages
but it won't stay afloat.
(read forward, then backward, line by line)

I ran.
Not knowing what else to do
There was so much blood on my hands
It was mine
The kitchen knife
Caught in my chest
Guilt
Consumed by
Fear
I was heightened by
Adrenaline
But running on
Wasn’t enough
While trying to stay calm,
Losing control
It was me that would end up
Dead. Because
He was
In front of me
The whole time
It was too late
Trapped
I found myself
Locked in chains
My fate was
Death.
Forward: from the victims perspective.
Backward: from the murderers perspective.

This TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE
They say she wears no makeup
They say she is not pretty
They say that I am blind
But I know that they lie

Her heart, soul and character
Made her the prettiest girl
In this world
They did not see it
Because they were all blind.
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