look at the night sky.
see how the stars move,
and the moon changes.

growing and shedding.
cyclical
and never stagnant.

i want to be the same.
moving
and growing.

i am trying to mimic the moon.
but how can someone so limited,
achieve such growth?

how can i endure the loss
and still wait for the bloom?

the blood of my mother is sweet.
but the blood of my father is sour.

no wonder i am certain of nothing.
even my blood does not know
how it should taste.

i killed a bug today.

in a moment of panic
squished it until its corpse
combined itself with the page
laying underneath.

remorse washed through my entire body.
guilt lay at the foot of my stomach,

and for a moment i wonder if God feels the same.
guilt for crushing me
with the weight of all the pain
i am forced to withstand.

i wonder if he ever feels sorry
for letting me go through that.

for letting me suffer.

if there is ever any remorse
for almost killing me.

surely he does right?
feel sorry for it all?

please tell me he feels sorry for all of this.

it scares me to know how far light can travel.
how stars billions of light years away
can die and yet still be seen on earth.

and it scares me that i can only hope
that the light i leave on the world,
lingers for as long as that.

or even

lingers at all.

there are moments in a climb
where you stop,
and put down the things you carry.

either to admire the view
or to let your lungs heal
from the constant ******* in of wind.

there are moments in life,
where we must stop,
and put down the things we carry.

either to admire the the view
or to heal the ache
of constantly living.

i got a paper cut
and i picked at it
until its corpse
become a permanent headstone
on my skin.

you hurt me,
and i picked at it
until it began to scar,
until it began to
tighten the skin.

i will never be able to escape the ache of you.
never be able to revive myself.
or be able to relieve the pain of the skin pulling.

but i will always try to heal it,
even if it is no use.