There have been many stories told
Countless poems and prose written
About the forgotten ones
To those spirits and souls
Who laugh and cry
And tells everything’s alright
I say without contempt nor
Doubt
“You don’t have to hide.”

To each one fighting their way
Out
Of an abyss of their own fates
“It’s not too late.”

Each brawl with your inner demons
Every lesson along the way
Every corner, every junction
Every turn you had to take
Turning left

Right around the corner
Each sober faces you had seen
Still drunk
With the thought of what could have been
And all those moments you could have
shared, but
You are still alive

Yes, you are still there
And tomorrows another day

You’re lost at sea,
Looking for whatever
Floating mask fits,
Whichever suits and
Then someday when
You’re not lost anymore.
When you already swam ashore
*Who are you?

Cinderblock ashes and miles a sunder
And the crestfallen seas as wide there after
The nightingale as she was called
Bold, brave and on a journey
Searching for the missing piece in her heart
She looked and looked
But she couldn't find
She asked and asked
But nobody replied
And her words came to deaf ears
But the nightingale traveled still
Far and wide and never wavering
Wandering the great vortex within
And asked every possible being
But to no avail
The nightingale of the dark was lost
And in midst of the ever looming
Swallowing shadows coalescing
To a tapestry of nothing but black
She recognized one fateful truth
No amount of screaming nor
Soothing of her pain will surmount
The fact that no one
Nobody is going to come help her
Find what she was looking for
Only herself

Sometime around midnight
I think about all the things
I think about when
I think about you
Something about your
Big, bright smile or your
Cute, little pout you make
All the time whenever
We were together
All the time back then when
We were together

Maybe, that’s just how life is.
You look up, realize, a lot of things don’t matter. Those people,
that opportunity, even yourself deep
Down. But the thing is, just don’t care. At least stop caring.
That’s when it starts to hurt. That’s when you cry
even without tears and regret
Every.
Single.
Thing.
That happened.
Don’t regret, dear. Never. Everything is worth experiencing.
Yes, even the ****** ones.
Whatever problem, whatever dilemma you’re facing.
I promise it’ll get brighter soon. Not tomorrow, next year, not even
when you hear the last lie coming from me
but definitely.
You’ll have to wait for my last lie then.

If I become blind one day
And can no longer see your face
Amongst the derelict sea of features
Yet you still ask for me to remember
If only to describe with each passing day
In full color what it felt was to love
Even if color are the grains
Of sand that slipped past my palm
And into the darkness that swallows
I would still utter, love
Without doubt that you were
The greens that grows beneath the soil of
My heart , the blue that quenches
The red in my blood and
The bright yellow that shines above the sky
And in the field of black and white
*You are the screaming color