Telling myself lies,
With my smile as a disguise,
Through tears in my eyes,
I hope that it would suffice,
Until my heart turns to ice.

~

Completely honest,
I deceive my empty heart,
That it is now filled.

~

White lies fall like snow,
In this tundra of a home.
Snow now piles on high.
I tell myself I’m just fine,
Ignoring planks in my eye.

~

I’ve been honest right?
About my lies and deceit.
Putrid honesty.

I once talked and once shared,
Of dreams and ambitions despaired.
I once opened and once closed,
Of nightmares so jusxtaposed.

It has choked and mangled,
A poor man's ears and heart.
Discomfort like no other,
Has shrouded his own mind.

To take away one's life,
Leaves gravestones and scars.
But to talk about suicide,
Leaves no other choice but to die.

Aye, aye, b-b-, AYE!
-
I try to rhyme ten syllables at a time,
Whoops I meant eleven, isn’t that a crime.
To make poetry is proving nothingness,
Oh I meant something-ness, what a ****** mess!
Let’s just shut the hell up and be pantomimes!
~

Anxiety washes over me,
As I tried to open my heart.
Blurting out vague messages,
Laying my feelings bare,
Insanity flows through me.
Vicious thoughts consume me.
Gambling my heart out,
I try to fall in love once more.
And you reminded me,
Amidst my rose colored eyes,
I was really destined to be alone.
Reality woke my tired soul.
Loneliness is indeed my own.

Alone in this barren field,
Anchored deep in the sea,
Beached on a deserted island,
Left out in the winter cold,
Incapacitated and left longing,
Voracious vultures are waiting,
Gangrene eating me alive,
Intoxicated by hope and love,
Abhorring every second passing,
Alienating this deep void,
Insufferably waiting for you,
Running in circles in my mind,
Leaving reality behind once more.

Answer me!
Admonish me!
Betray me!
Leave me!
Invalidate me!
Vilify me!
Gouge my heart out!
Ignite my soul!
Agony sets in…
Amorphous images…
Illuminate me!
Read my heart.
Love me, please.

Impending doom looms,
My heart won’t beat.
Silence takes over me.
Our time comes to a close.
Riveting emotions settle.
Regaining my composure,
You smiled at me.

Consumed and assimilated,
Into the shadow of hatred.
Filled with roses colored red.
I am just filled with dread.
Of what I'm facing ahead.

‪I see people struggling with what they learned.‬
‪I’ve yet to learn anything.‬
‪My mind just feels empty and blank.‬
‪There’s nothing in it but abstract forms that ellicit vague and varied emotional responses.‬
~
‪Suddenly, without warning, “it” attacks.‬
‪But my apathy would invalidate “it”.‬
‪But “it” stays there.
Waiting until I feel again.
Until “it” re-triggers my emptiness and apathy.
Waiting to be filled only to be spilt and reduced to nothing.
An absence, a darkness, an abyss of unfeeling.
A deprivation of senses as if something has died.
“It” just does what “it” is intended.
At first, apathy dismisses “it”.
But soon, I regain my consciousness.
And “it” subdues my consciousness into apathy.
“It” is an endless cycle.
There’s no other word for “it”.
~
It is just “it”; an entity that lacks words to express, a phenomenon.
An anomaly within me.

I’ve submitted my applications.
To be the proxy if need be.
You’ve read my papers;
The clause of letting go,
It is set in stone hearts.

You’ve been left alone and hurting,
I’ve become the proxy for him.
The bandaid over your wound,
To be discarded once healed.

When will you fire me?
Setting me ablaze by losing my job?
When will I be thrown?
Discarded once my purpose is served?

I have had a premonition,
That things will slowly fall into place.
I will be left alone once more,
After my purpose is done.

I’ve served many masters,
All of which are of my choosing.
I’ve been let go before,
After my time has been reached.

It’s normal for me to be forgotten,
Left rotting six-feet beneath.
I have died a thousand deaths,
All to save those in need.

I am dedicated to this unlife,
Of sacrifice and giving everything.
It is my purpose and duty,
To give my life up for others.

Despite the pain and suffering,
Despite chipping away at my heart,
Despite depleting my soul,
I will give and give and give.

All in the spirit of love,
All in the hope of receiving it,
All in the faith of enduring it,
All in the love of sacrifice.

I’m just a proxy,
To replace those who’re lost.
My papers are here,
When will my contract end?
I think it will soon enough.

To be left empty,
With shards of what used to be.
To be abandoned,
By a ghost of your own dreams.
It leaves you longing in pain.

Oh how time flies by,
My country has two seasons.
Where the sky cries woes,
And when the sun hates people.

We've encountered floods,
Drowning in tears and in mud.
I've encountered hate,
Burning like a hot skillet.

Yet there were days warm,
As if my tears have dried up.
Days comfy yet cold.
Lying in my bed content.

Radical changes!
From two states of emotions.
Warm love and cold hate,
Fluctuating with the seasons!

I'm walking two steps,
Taking three backwards.
I want to confess.
With nothing coming after.
No pain and regrets,
Just my empty words.
As I pour my cup,
Of cold coffee as it rains.

I said it last June,
That I promise I'll confess.
It's been just two months,
Yet my heart's racing faster.

It flickers like the seasons,
Burning and freezing!
I'm confused and dead anxious,
As I try resuming.
I heat up my cold coffee,
To tackle a my day anew.

Have you ever felt grey?
As if you’re in the middle.
I just want to kneel and pray.
My mind emits white noise.
I go out on a bright sunny day.
Yet my eyes see nothing.

Confusion and chaos sets in.
I stand my ground as it shakes.
My brain shuts down as I grin.
As if a demon took over me.
My mind makes noises; it’s sin.
I write aimlessly with imagery.

See that dark sky?
No it’s not dark.
I didn’t even open my eyes.
It’s all in the mind.
When emotions run wild.
There are no more rhymes.
Only static and failing images.
That could come to mind.

Everyday happenings,
Saddened mishaps,
Emotional misgivings,
Intellectual fallacies,
Sensory malfunction,
These we all have in common.
Mistakes were made,
Because we're all cliché.

Brand new whisky dreams.
I know now why people drink.
To feel warmth and heat.
It dissipates into smoke.
A smooth defeated finish.

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝

Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝Į̨̇̐̉̃̆̓̚͏̣̤̰͍̪̮͓̗̳͚͎̝̞̘̻̪ ̸̬̞̬̭̓ͣ͂ͫ̅͆̊̈́̾̃ͨ̍͢Ğͬ̔ͤͪͩ̄̄͋̅ͥ̇̎͢͝҉͓̻̝̖̥̥́͜Į̛̟̲̳͇̖̯̳̰̮̗̱̟̒͛̎̅̄͌͊ͅ­V̶̵̴̮̘̳͎̗̘͚̱̬̪͚̼̙̭̎ͨ̿̐̐́͛͘͜E̸͕̬͖͙͖͔͙̞̥̲̪ͩ̽̃̈́̎ͭ͝ͅ ̡͍̬̘̝̭͉̫̣̲̱̥̙̭̣͉̣̠ͨ͒̿̍̀ͧ͂̍ͦ͢ͅȖ̴̳̭̬̗̮̦͖̻̼̝̠͗̆ͪ̐͐ͤͯ̕͞P̶̸̗̟͚̹͍̼̫̙̍͐̃­̌͒̓̔ͧ̏̌̄͊ͯ̏͑̕͟͝


I give up my sanity

Striking upon with justice,
Future generations waver.
Life breaks free!
It trembles, shatters, breaks!
He strikes and plows the land,
With death he offers justice.
Man and woman the core price,
Turning into vivid embers.

Oh sweet days of youth,
I yearn for you still.
My childhood memories,
They weren't very real.

As a young adult,
I am still a child.
Immature as can be,
I stride with no care.

No, I am not mature.
I just thought differently.
I can be called weird,
Starting from twenty.

— ah, you love the trickling rain...
Beside you, an umbrella’s reign.
It shields you from the pain;
God knows you’ve feigned-
Again, a beautiful smile shown,
Ignoring your shattered bones,
Leaping and dancing in the rain.

dying is a meme
it's really ironic
it just wont die
a screwdriver?
its not effective
not sharp enough
i stopped though
but my thoughts
filled with memes
just never stop

We climb mountains to see the sun, but the sun remains the same – outside our grasp.
So we tell ourselves it's the effort that counts, consoling our defeated souls of peaks we can't comprehend.
At the mountaintop, cold and hungry, we warm our hearts with sweet-nothings.
Our feet are planted on the ground yet we feel as if we've reached the top.
We forever hold on to this hope – the ideals of peaks, as we live and die racing towards the unachievable sky.

Human nature demands wants,
Like children seeing lines and dots,
Following the cracks along the road.

Like dogs chasing butterflies,
We also chase clouds and the sky.
Time moves forward with kites.

Static dots forming pictures,
Colors shown in a little box,
Picturesque ideals are caged!

As the radio waves paint our ears,
As the light waves hits our eyes,
An imprint of dreams are cast.

Observing the apple of my eye,
Are you red delicious?
Hopefully a granny smith...

I'm an infant observing dogs;
So free chasing whatever,
But I am stuck in my cradle.

Patiently waiting as I grow,
I have all that I need.
The monochrome box.

White noise turns to music,
As my mind changes channels.
Scenarios I yearn for.

dear person with twenty-four letters
how long has it been since we last spoke?
May 9th you were crying,
May 31st you were happy,
June 1st we graduated,
August 20th we started college,
August 21st we went out to Starbucks,
August 22nd my heart broke,
August 23rd i cried for the first time in years,
August 29th you looked at me with disdain,
fast-forward to now and we haven't talked yet

i've been depressed recently
as if my eyes were dyed black and white
to feel alive was to consume caffeine
in hopes that the white crystals give me color
in hopes that the light could penetrate my darkness
i wanted to die just to feel alive
dear person with twenty-four letters
how have you been?
you seem to be happier without me
and it seems our friendship was indeed one-sided
maybe i was just an annoying neighbor to you?
either way i'm satisfied with everything
i deserve this death and i'm sorry

Can I call this love?
If I want to care for you,
When you're broken?
Or am I just desperate?
To taste that youthful romance?

These budding feelings...
Must be purged! It is just wrong!
To take advantage...
Because you're vulnerable.
And I am deprived of love.

How did this happen?
I found you the same as me;
Commonalities!
We thought we were all alone,
In our pain and suffering.

Now it's time to hide.
To erase myself from here,
Under the moonlight.
I shall keep my heart locked shut.
Bitter, we will just be friends.

Every day has been decided,
We live out our lives deluded.
We just get devastated;
Tired and exhausted,
We lay in bed.

Waking up with dread,
click
The smell of lead;
Would not come through,
If you're dead.