my world is large
Monsters thrive on all grounds
across the whole globe

erasing the trace of my past
erasing the path to my future
Monsters thrive

i may be small
but i require vastness to thrive
i don't get the chance to thrive

these Monsters are Humans
They destroy my home
and destroy my hopes of living

i'm just a tiny insignificant butterfly
i have no ability to fight
but the battle has already been lost

i'll die along with the rest of nature
as hope which developed in a cocoon
flies away like a butterfly - myself

I walked straight through your heart,
Metaphorically.

Stormy, windy, dark nights,
With shattered street lights,
Void of any form of light.
Your heart suffers an undesirable life.

Stroms embody distress and frailty.
Winds embody hastiness.
Dark nights embody sinister actions.
With no hope present, a more profound image is painted.

When I walked through your metaphorical heart
I felt the suffering.
Shivers and goosebumps displayed my uneasyness,
Yet you live a life exactly like this.

The most metaphorical experience was my most life-like, metaphorical experience.

Place your heart next to that of a queen's and nothing sets it apart as being different,
But upon closer examination - listening and communicating - a whole lot of darkness is felt and seen.

Inner darkness is better than an assumed inner brightness, based on the exterior condition.

Authenticity in physical condition is important.

she sits miles away but you think she's right next to you
she sits in corners that make it difficult to reach
her life is a game called 'the maze' and you're in it
reach the centre of the maze and see her alone
she seems lost bewildered

you make your way to the centre (of your life)
your centre becomes eccentric as your centre moves away
she your centre sees someone else and runs towards him passionately
they leave the maze feeling victorious
together

you walked miles to see her and realize that she has walked miles to see someone else
your heart beats on every tenth step you take nearing the end of your life
the intent that she has is present but for someone who isn't
you

Our childhood's prime game;
Creating a paper plane.
Making it fly high,
But it never reached the sky.

We would continue to raise the bar,
But still we wouldn't get very far.
We would trust a redesign,
But never anything different from our own design.

We would work soley for ourselves;
To keep the success to ourselves.
We would spend all day redesigning a paper plane,
But never on redesigning our life's shame.

We live for a paper plane
And its thrill - day by day.
We would accept our life's flaws,
But never our paper plane's flaws.

We would live for irrelevant people and objects,
But never for our own salvation.
We would live with a self-opinionated attitude,
But why do we now live with our opinion based on that of the world?

We live like a paper plane;
Flying high, just to be redesigned.
The world never helps us stay sane
As we're always seen as a failed design.

Music:
manipulates emotions.
indices emotions.
forms expectations.
creates utopia.
inspires lives.
sets the tone.
promotes calm.
excites individuals.
establishes a whole new form of communication through common enjoyment.

Music is powerful.

Fatal weaponry along with a symbol of love,
but what love is to ****?
Deadly decisions made by a person jealous of love,
but what's there to gain if you **** the one you love?
Traumatizing scenes wreck havoc within the family,
but why do this to the family of the person you love?

Death.

The beautiful soul of a human being completely starved of the substance to life.
The delicate heart made to suffer because of your jealousy.
The intelligent mind punished for wisely not choosing you.

Love.

The funeral - largely decorated in roses.
Each and every couple left distraught.
Trust in relationships rapidly declining.

The rose - widely used to portray love,
but from now on it will be fearfully avoided due to the meaning you've placed on "love".
Guns n Roses.

"Guns don't **** people, people **** people."

She stands tall.
Shaken by the regime - all the way to a fall.
Still standing firm in her roots,
striving against the cabinet in suite.

She stands tall.
Her roots being hacked at and poisoned,
yet she does not fall.

She does not fall.
Insults hit her heart,
yet she does not begin to stall,
but her heart begins to fall.

She does not fall.
Now she stands taller
like an elegant self-conscious queen,
but with the heart of a mother that no one has ever seen.


Slowly breaking,
She falls.

The abuse has become too much.
Just to name a cause;
It was you with your helpful, root unearthing touch.

RIP Mama Afrika.

Unaware of what you're saying
You show affection
Unaware of the depth of your words
You open yourself to danger

The function of the heart is to pump blood through your body
It allows you to live
Breathe

But
If your heart becomes toxic
You no longer
Live
Breathe
Easily

Beware of the threats of choosing hearts
They can be detrimental to your everything or sometimes beneficial.

An abundant blessing becomes over-used
Becomes an economical powerhouse
For those who exploit its insignificance.

Largely significant to individuals who hurry nature
Rapid growth aided by toxic substances
Forcing nature to suffer a life full of exploitation.

Humans put price tags on nature.
Something priceless in its natural state gets demoted in value.
But, its value to humans - priceless.

Without sustainable and artificial growth of stand-alone insignificant pieces, a whole species of intoxicating humans will be eradicated.

Luscious greenery and growth follows the death of a human.

Your eyes are my night sky;
Eyes like stars
Stars that shine brighter than a burning fire.

I get lost in your eyes,
Yet stars give direction
Directions to your heart.

We all love,
But never mutually.

She approaches you with more than just love.
You keep your distance because you know what you want from her - not love.

She tries everything to win you over, but you don't budge, yet you continuously search for love.

A never-ending search for love never bears fruit because love seems to never be mutual.

You find so much love, but it's always one-sided and never from your side.

A princess, dressed in white, seeks an opportunity to share her soul with a deserving prince. This princess is tall in confidence and full of admiration for herself. She's like a white tiger: rare and beautiful. She fights all sorts of battles to find her prince.

A prince, dressed in a suit, prepares himself to find a princess in order to live his life with a partner. He walks about like a lion, looking determined to get what he has set out for. He's a lion that is commonly found, but has a soul that is unique. He fights "gentleman" and boys on his way to victory.

One single path, travelled in opposite directions.
First sight: a connection.

The prince acknowledges the beauty and rarity of the princess. He gets on one knee and iterates that the princess is more important than he is.

He wears a piece of cloth that represents freedom and diversity.

This shows that people from completely different backgrounds or natures can become cohesive. Love has no protocol.

The cliché "contrast" is black and white
But in reality there is much more to contrast:
Success and failure,
Night and day,
Living and thriving.

Once living the dream, now living the nightmare.
That's reality's contrast
Once being confident, now being sceptical.
That's reality's contrast.

The only visible light and dark contrast in reality is whether you cry during the day where everyone can see you and your sufferings or during the night where no one can see the real you and what you have come to.

Darkness might be beautiful, but only when you see glimmers of light.
You'll go out into the city and describe the darkness as beautiful just because of the light you see within the darkness.

Darkness allows you to blend in
Your inner darkness escapes as you cry
As you express yourself to the surrounding emptiness
Eventually you become covered with your emitted darkness.

Cry during the day and the viewers will look, glance, stare

laugh

And they know what you're going through?

You get drenched in darkness by the actions of others and your own excretion.

Darkness can house beauty, but darkness is slowly taking over.

In life, is there a certain amount of gratitude that we must have?
A certain amount of appreciation?
Should we only receive when we're ready to be grateful?

I find this challenging...
Being able to accept a gift of something kind, but feeling as if your reaction or emotions aren't substantial enough to support what you have received.

love is the best deceptive feeling
although deceptive
still critical in forming a connection

:

connecting means accepting
accept the assets
heart
impurities
reasons you wouldn't start to love

:

love is a filter to every factor
factors that cause you to lose interest
end your pursuit
stop the affection
repel the attraction

:

if you do love
nothing can stop you
no flaw
characteristic
quality
value
difference
irrespective of your requirements

:

when you love
nothing can stop you from loving

People can be pure,
or impure.

People can be real,
or unreal.

People can be there,
or no where.

People can be friends,
or enemies.

People can be beneficial,
or detrimental.

Abolish those who seek to destroy you...

If a burning, exothermic-reactant ball of gas can emit light that travels at 3×10^8 m•s^-1,

Why can't you emit the hope that you experience endothermically even when your ∆H is a negative?

Why do you have to be so selfish as to favour an endothermic reaction instead of being exothermic and being like the sun - shedding your hope onto others?

Since we have chemistry, can we not meet at chemical equilibrium?

from growing and forming in a cocoon , to finding your feet and your way to the top ; as a caterpillar , now you're flying like a butterfly - free and independently .

My hand stretches out.
I touch.
My mind's eye catches yours.
I connect.
My imagination takes over.
I dream.
My love depends.
I fall.
Softly.

My senses come to terms with my surroundings.
I am looking in the mirror, delving into my soul.

I've connected with my loneliness.

An artist paints a masterpiece.
Uses colour to represent intention and desire.
A highly detailed piece of art becomes his centrepiece,
his everything.

Occasionally he drops colour all around him.
Every colour at his disposal becomes mixed and splattered.

What has been used to create you is now the substance of new imagery;
A new art piece created on the floor called:
'A representation of my feelings for you'.

Touch -
The most significant insignificance.
Sight -
The slightest intention.
Hearing -
The loudest silence.
Taste -
The most complicated intricacy.
Smell -
The love of the non-discriminatory.
You -
The "when all else fails".

She loves me.
She loves me not.
Does she really love me?
She loves me not.
Is this meant to be?
She loves me not.
Is this what we could be?
She loves me not.
Time isn't for free,
Wasted all my time just to be
Nothing to me.

He dedicates his life:
movements,
rest,
presence,
heart,
to a temporary individual that seemed permanent.

She dedicates her life:
movements,
rest,
presence,
heart,
to someone else.

Her love is poisonous; he drinks it as if it's pure, but chokes on the concentration of lies and deceit.

(men are trash?)
(what are woman then?)

What if beauty was preserved?

Will it still carry the same significance?
Will preservatives slur her growth?
Will she still become who she was destined to be?
Will her natural beauty be enough to deny any need of preservation?

Lack of emotion
Like life and nothing more
Walking up and down
Having no feeling, no ambition
Music in the background, no meaning

They say I'm living but no being understands

Wake up, no hope
The dark a hopeless glimmer

I
Walk
Endlessly
Directly
To
My
Death

If only we could explore;
the skies,
the stars,
the moon,
the sunrise,
the sunset,
and our lives.

Together.

Paint your sky in the colour you choose.
Decorate it with the patterns you choose.
Compromise it in the way you choose.
Add defects that beautify your creation.

A broken heart symbolises newly gained intellect and maturity.
Your impurities define your beauty.

If the sun has purpose
If the clouds have purpose
If the light has purpose

Where do you fit in?

If the moon has purpose
If the stars have purpose
If the darkness has purpose

If even the most potent tenebrosity has purpose, why don't you?

love is a big word.for only four letters.it can mean so much to someone.or nothing at all.are you the one i wana call late at night​.or are you the one i need to stay away from.i don't know if it's true love.yet you make me feel special.all i want is you.but i'm scared.scared of heartbreak.

Embody your original self, dismay your fake self.

Some days I wonder when I'll meet "the one" while other days I'm so thankful for not meeting "the one". But love is so powerful that when you meet "the one" you see no way without him or her.

From despising him or her to becoming addicted to him or her; this is the power of true love.

Let the tears flow like a river,
A river of regret and pain.
Let them fall and weave down your face,
past your cheeks and down your neck.
Drench yourself in tears.

Empty yourself of all hurt and pain.
Suffocate every scarring memory.

Add a waterfall to the end of your river.
Force the pain all the way to the the edge.
Bully the regret over the edge.
Watch your pain and regret fall.
Watch them as they disappear downstream.

They're dead.
They're gone forever.

You emitt a sense of dignity
You display beauty and excitement
Your appearance is a sight that can heal any brokenness
Your spine holds together all the stories of your innermost being.

Your structure aids your courtesy
A flip-style lid that uncovers all your experiences
A passageway to your inner workings.

Your appearance is mostly a façade;
One that enlightens and softens the viewer
When the lid is flipped and your inner self uncovered, everything seems different.

Your inside displays short bursts of anger
Punctuation is used all over
Complexities in understanding display uncertainty
A sense of broken and relentless suffering;
One that is nothing less than negative.

The shell around this inside is solid, rigid and safe.
Without opening the lid up, the inside would not be exposed.

These two entities are completely different and independent from each other.

You are like a book:
The outside - the lie
The inside - the truth.

We used to stay up 'till 12 to communicate
Sacrifices were made to be together
There was no need to elaborate
Our common endeavour

Love was sleek
Love was tangible
It was never like hide and seek
Where we couldn't see each other anymore

My hugs satisfied you
Your touch satisfied me
I was in front of the que
Of being in the heart I wanted to be

A stray eye
Was never unintended

Swimming without assistance,
Progressing - stroke by stoke.

Gently moving along the surface,
Barely scratching the depths.

Stroke by stroke, I become stronger and more confident.
Stroke by stroke, I pound and penetrate the water.
Stroke by stroke, I overcome my previous position.

Each stroke like torture
Ripping myself out and falling back in,
Allowing the water to take a hold of me once again.

The water symbolised my struggles and insecurities.
A never-ending and already lost war,
I was battered, stroke by stroke.

Beauty is a blessing and a curse
For both you and I

Whenever I see you utilising your curse
I can only sit and comply

I can become so distracted by your blessing
That I can't unfix my eyes

When I see your entire blessing
I feel the need to have you in my life

Beauty is a curse to me
It is my weakness

It takes over everything within me
Then all I see is your evoking bliss

It is a catalyst to my thoughts and actions,
But negatively effects my loyalty

Then my actions lead to insanity

I'd send you a text; a greeting.
You'd reply; a greeting.
We'd talk about a few things; small talk.
We'd casually flirt and enjoy; affection.
I'd revive the conversation; hopefulness.
I'd try my best to keep it flowing; eagerness.
We'd continue to an unmutual conversation; unhealthy.
You'd neglect contributing to the conversation; careless.
I'd restart the process daily; care.

But, you'd never even try to start a conversation let alone try the process I've perfected; speechless.

we barely consider the fact that the sun might not rise the next day, but every night we watch the sun disappear, expecting its return.

the thought of the end of the world doesn't trouble our minds because we have confidence in the return of the sun.

love with confidence.

when things go south, have confidence that the love between you and your partner is in a sunset phase and that it will have its sunrise phase soon.

love your partner with the confidence that the love between the two of you will remain tangible and only fade out momentarily.

use love's sunset and sunrise phase to admire your partner.

love with confidence.

There's a light at the end,
The end is near.

I continually pretend
That it is you who I fear.

It's your deep waters that I seek
Where it is only you and me.

I want to explore the fun of your shallow waters, but you keep deceiving me.

There's a burning flame at the end,
The time is near.

Like the serpent underneath the flower, you display a calm and beautiful appearance.

But when it gets deep I experience enormous swells of your deadly wrath - without any escape.

You are the ocean of my love for you and the love-swells never stop crashing over me.

We see
colours
categories
styles
religions
values
differences
But we don't see the love that marries all of these together

as i dig deeper
i find pieces
shattered
scattered
lost
you
dismantled

as i dig deeper
i collect the pieces
re-build
re-organise
now found
new you
restored

as i exit your heart
i look at you
a masterpiece

A long, arduous trip across the ocean has led me to this island. The sounds of animals, luscious forests and of fresh water greet me upon my arrival, but is this the end of my journey?

My quest for a perfect island has been going on for years. Many have not met my criteria and many have scarred me, but am I finally at the perfect island?

The possible presence of deadly creatures and carnivores make me fearful, but one doesn't know about their presence until it is encountered, as I've experienced a few times before.

A familiar feeling falls upon me -
"I think I've found her."
A familiar fear grabs me -
"Is she about to scar me?"

Are you my island?

How do I know if it's true love?
Do I risk heartbreak or risk living without love?

Do I focus on the things of above?
Do I just persue the person I love?

What if I love He who lives above, but also the person who lives amongst us?
What if my values tell me to prioritize the above?

Is there an inbetween?
Is there a halfway point where we could meet?

Can you just become an angel so that I can believe that you are the one?

Society continually asks about relationships;
How many you've had, how many you've faked.
Society constantly asks about affection;
Whether you've expressed affection or not.

Society never asks how many times love lead to heartbreak;
What you undeservedly deserved.
Society never asks if you're okay;
Whether you're living positively or whether you feel like just another brick in the wall, waiting to be vandalised and demolished.

I risk it all to have it all;
The be all and end all.
Clichés like unmutual love
Show you what I'd do for love.

She's a stranger, the most beautiful stranger.

As we move nearer, I feel her tug at my heart.
I feel an abundance of affection, injecting through my veins.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

She tightens her grip, her hand is on my heart.
Her hand is golden, pure gold.
What I see is more than I ever wanted; someone who truly loves me.

I am greeted with the urge to love.

But. Her hand starts to flake, it's only gold plated.
Her grip and her tug starts to pain.
She's not who her image promised to be.

She's a danger, the most beautiful danger.

Time goes by like the longest nightmare;
never-ending and full of wicked surprises.

Time goes by like the shortest dream; rapid and without impurities, factually killing every bit of me.

Dreaming is not always my biggest despair,
but most times the reason to believe that I'll be able to drown my soul in the hope that I urgently need.

The second hand gives my heart a rhythm to follow when it's lacking desire to continue.

The minute hand moves minutely as the rhythm beats,
slowly indicating the unwanted end of my dream.

The hour hand is the shortest, but the longest too. This is my never ending nightmare that takes forever to end,
leaving me and my soul drenched in a soul-drowning sorrow with the desperate need of external deliverance.

Time may be a virtue, but it kills too.

He approaches, from a completely different background.
He sees an odd, irregular image
Minding its own business.

He approaches and the image moves.
The irregular image faces him as he admires it.
It is smothered in beauty,
So much, but he doesn't understand it.

She, the image, sees him too.
She falls in love with his body's outline,
But when he steps into the light,
She doesn't understand her love anymore.

Mutual love was clouded by race.

Eventually, they learned to love their differences.
They created art through their differences;
Contrasting colours thrived in their newly ordained similarities - obtained through love.

Multi-racial relationships are the artwork of humankind.