I've embraced the touch of hope before
begotten by the echos of yesteryear
where met the feeling of rejoice and love
ended unto abhorrent discourse

unto the mirror reflecting internal strife
sounds of fate resonated within
misguided by the allure of necessity
this soul walked into its own shadow
eyes shining brighter still than the morning dawn
blinded by the sheer audacity
still i may not lose sight of where to place my next step

i feel like i am a lost sonnet, born amongst a world designed to only listen to its own prose

planted seed; they let it grow
through much defeat, it’s never known
a smile's disguise seethes bated breath
my sole escape be only death

i retain the strength of character that of the ocean’s floor

unwavering in nature, i do not break; i do not change, i merely drift and shape and form along with the currents as they bear their weight upon me.

but my weakest shortcoming is that i reside in permanent darkness- unknown, unheard and unseen where it is infinitely cold and quiet, alone

i simply wish, even if merely for one day in my life, to feel like the sun: warm, bright and seen by all; needed, known and felt.

Winter burns bright with the fumes of summer, but it’s still just as cold as the hearts that left me in the solemn, snow-filled days of yesteryear.

Sleepless nights, alone in my head.. but what’s new? It’s 2am, once again, and I’ve gathered by now that nobody seems to have ever truly cared. My story is my favorite book to read, but I have no eyes.. and no ears to listen to my pleas. But, what’s new?

I’m used to it all by now. I just can’t seem to ever get used to being unappreciated, used or ignored. I just want to find my shade in the storm, a place to - once and for all - call ‘home’.

Please, when I get there, just don’t leave me at the door..

these thoughts fester, blistering; glorified toxicity, virulent, mundane and absolutely consuming in every single way.

I love to hate it and I hate to love it, but I do; and sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be selfish, as they say I can. “It’s okay to be a little bit” but what about more? when in the past I was never, don’t I deserve to cash in on the blunder that was my life up until this point? it was all a lesson waiting to be frustratingly spat back in my face, concluding to the one single plane of time and space I was spent to end up here where I am today.

it was never a dream, it was always me that was never needed or wanted; it was always selfishness that guided it all and I was just the punchline to 27 years of contempt. and I still wonder, I think because I know: I need to go, I need to go

and I wonder, who would need me more than ever after the fact? Who would stay behind and grieve for me, but I curiously berate my consciousness with thoughts, more importantly, of “who would go?”

nobody but me. nobody still, no one. I would go alone.

But here, I am the same. At least on the other side, I don’t have to be the product of pain and the reason of disdain. swallowed whole again.. swallowed whole

I’ll leave this earth like a passionate torrent of dust and emptiness and corroded flesh mired by the taint of a Friday night’s ugliest forgotten texts - “hey, where are you?” said the blinding screen, faceless as ever and echoing screams of torment: why must I remain unseen?

no amount of effort, no amount of partiality begets the conundrum more than simply trying to believe in anything else. reality disguises itself as a promise, but the words never stuck. you lied to me, they all do - it’s fine, I’m used to it. my words never meant anything, too - until now

i will go