Each breath
is a reminder of the regrets
living in her body like a cancer…

Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
Now my mom’s free,
Or so she thought.
The smoke sends an illusion of peace.
The smell of ember burning,
getting closer and closer to death’s door
as it eats away the cigarettes,
While the time ticks slowly.
Each moment she lights the lighter,
The fire dances,
sending chills down her spine…

She knows it’s bad—
She said to me that she will get better,
but she gets bitter each minute
she holds the box of cigarettes
With the regrets she won’t let go.

Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
I don’t recognize my mom anymore.
I miss the old her.
The one who smiles and laughs,
Like a kid at a park.
Or whenever I cry with the fear of her dying
And disappearing,
she would hug me close and told me this;
“Don’t worry, baby…
Mama won’t let go of you.”
Now, she clutches a box of cigarettes.
Each breath she breathes
is a broken promise.
The mom I knew is fading in the smoke.
The mom I knew is in this photo,
But I want the real her.

Breathe in…
One, Two, Three…
Breathe out…
Now my mom’s gone from my life.

Nature's trees dancing
to the wind's mellow song.
Crimson leaves falling on the
October roads. Letting go of
the trees. Slowly becoming
free on its journey for Peace.

I sit here on the yellow-green grass.
I see a butterfly passing by as the seasons change.
I'm listening to the colder breeze speaking of the
written chapters full of word of wisdom flowing like
a river full of rhythm of realism.


the sun sets into
the October skies,
birds flying through the October path.
Ghosts of the wind singing on the Friday night
of October.

as I sit on the grounds of the autumn fall
of the forest roads to the unknown,
the surroundings become small.

As I sit there and write
A poem full of reminiscences of
pain and lost souls that echoes the word
"Nevermore".

A butterfly flies and problems fall
like golden leaves from the trees,
becoming free from the tragedy.
But not hidden in the forgotten,
lonesome roads.
Where the ghosts of lost orphans
that lies in the haunted shadows.


A crow follows wherever I go
as the seasons change and the flowers die.
Waiting to bloom the transformation of rebirth
that lies in the forest home. Listening to the gentle
wind singing that mellow song of hope like ghosts.
Watching the gold-orange sun sets into the distance,
disappearing into the Autumn Fall.

A Tortured Artist,
had always suffered in the dark,
With a fractured heart that was never healed but
Filled with stitches of the scars from the past that lies within.
He never wanted to exist just to be thrown in a locked closet
under the Harvest moon of cold November.
He remembers the burned reminiscences
Of the broken promises and bitter mementos that sends him into
A downward spiral in the deepest darkest pits of the shadows.

He was promised love, and freedom.
Now he’s dead-
forgotten.
He now lives as the wisest artist.
Speaking and throwing ink with the
Rawest words of realism on the canvas of the coldest world.
It shapes the view of the dark Harvest Moon from a closet.

Without a shattered heart,
Or being locked in the dark closet,
how would an artist be inspired of art
if he’s not tortured in this coexisted world
That lies beneath the worst current events?

In my head,
it’s an escape room.
I wake up, stuck in a bathroom,
Each wall closing in on me.
Filled with mistakes
and regrets that make me fall.
Bittersweet memories and lost mementos
I hate-
A horrid melody put on repeat.
Each worst memory that I’ve replayed
Feels like a ****** mystery
To a broken scene.
Trying to figure out what happened.
Or if I did wrong in a relationship…

I’ve searched for hope…
Or the answer to it.
In the cracked mirror,
I see a broken self.
That self turns bitter and lonely,
Fading away in the shattered glass
As the time ticks slowly,
Wishing for the world to be better.
Each puzzle is a current problem
that yells and screams in my head.
Turning life into a living hell to solve.
The door won’t budge,
And I can’t find the key.
I keep thinking,
Wishing to be freed.
I get tired of it-
Trying to escape...
In the endless Escape Room…

Mirror mirror
On the wall,
Who’s the most shattered
of them all?
Aligned with the cracked glass,
I feel broken.
Each scar of self-harm
Leads to a line of tokens—
Every scratch and crack in the mirror
Is a symbol of self hate
that plagues my heart.
Soon to fall apart
And rot in the mirror…

Mirror mirror
On the wall,
Who’s the most fallen of them all?
Hidden and forgotten
in the dust of cobwebs
In your attic.
I ask for help,
But aligned with the smashed glass,
I feel stolen and trapped
Under the illusion of no hope—
Bruised and abused.
Left in confusion,
Losing people like flies,
Leaving shattered moments
in pieces scattered across the floor,
Only then I feel heartbroken.

Mirror mirror
On the wall,
What have I done wrong
To become aligned with
This broken mirror?

BEEP
Hey…
Um…
If you’re listening to this audio recording,
Um…
I wanted to say I miss you.
I haven’t seen or heard from you in a while, and…
I know what you're going through hurts you…
Um..
It’s ok to not be ok,
and I’m sorry that it hurts.
I really am.
But um…
I know everything will be ok and…
Well, I know that sounds cliche but
I'm not just saying this.
I know it will get better soon.
I want you to know you’re not alone.
Just don’t let go of hope, ok?
I love you…
*BEEP