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Ciel Feb 2019
In less than 4 hours,
I will be eighteen.
In the last year alone,
I have changed more than in the previous 16 years.
I have learnt that it is okay not to be okay,
that I do not always have to have an answer,
that it is okay to be vulnerable,
that nobody but yourself can make you happy,
that I can express myself without any sound,
that it is okay to lose some friends,
that it is okay to outgrow some other friends,
that I am not one fixed thing and it is okay to change,
that it is okay to be lost at times,
that I have to listen to my soul more than my fears,
and that I still have so much more to learn.
Ciel Feb 2019
Being
hurt
is
not
an
excuse
to
hurt
others.
Ciel Mar 2019
I once knew this woman.

The strongest woman I had ever met,
but see, she was hurt a long time ago,
and ever since,
she has not trusted many people.
But once in a while,
Someone worthy of her trust would come along
and she would allow herself to open up.
And oh, were those times beautiful.

They were more beautiful than
a butterfly flapping its graceful wings to take its first flight.
More beautiful than the calm but spellbinding motion of the ocean.
More beautiful than the first shining stars in the dark sky of the night.
More beautiful than the first leaves changing colors when autumn came.
More beautiful even than watching the first flower of spring blossom.

There was beauty in her strength
but also beauty in her vulnerability.
Beauty in seeing her walls slowly go down.
Beauty in the way she expressed her feelings.
Beauty in her laugh,
but also beauty in her tears.

She was a strong woman
who knew she had nothing to prove
for her strength was undeniable
to anyone who ever laid their eyes on her.
Ciel Sep 2019
Black boy stripped of his innocence.
Black boy denied his right to be a kid.
Black boy labeled since birth.
Black boy criminalized.
Black boy stereotyped.
Black boy violated.
Black boy silenced.
Black boy monitored.
Black boy put into a box.
Black boy seen as a menace.
Black boy forced to grow too fast.
Black boy with his back to the world.
Black boy, you are loved
Black boy, you are a prince
Black boy, you are beautiful
Black boy, you are smart and worthy.
Black boy, go on and speak your truth.
Black boy, go on and dance.
Black boy, go on and sing.
Black boy, go on and paint.
Black boy, go on and be a kid.
Ciel Jan 2019
Carpe noctem.
Seize the night.
Make it your own.
Ciel Dec 2018
Let me tell you a tale.

A tale passed down
From mother to son
Father to Daughter.
The tale of Chaos.

Chaos is the beginning and the end.
It was there before and it will be here after.
This is not a story about the Chaos you know,
Not the man-made synonym of mayhem.
This is a tale of Chaos in its purest form
It is everything and nothing at once
Both darkness and light
Pain and bliss
Sanity and madness
Past and future.
A senseless contradiction and the perfect combination.

This tale is one that we all seek,
For it is the answer to all our questions.
And once we finally rejoin the stars,
Greeting death with a smile,
We all become part of it.
So maybe you do not need me to tell the tale,
For you will soon be living it.
Ciel Apr 2019
Look at me
and see me.

See me for what I am,
For who I am.
Not who you think I am,
not who you hoped I would become
or who you want me to be,
not even for who you've been told I am,
but for who I truly am.

Even though it might break your heart,
disappoint you
or crush your soul,
accept that I grew up to become my own person
with my own beliefs and values.

Look at me
and see me,
the real me
not a younger you.

That is the greatest gift you could ever give me.
Ciel Apr 2019
Expectations are the quickest and most certain way
to ruin any adventure or new experience.
Ciel Apr 2019
I look at the massacre around me
and see.
I see battalions of men and women fighting.
I see the corpses of the defeated
with the memory of blades on them
and the gratification of the victors
with their bloodstained swords in hand.
I see friends and family weep for the fallen
and swear to avenge them.
I see mothers hold onto the cold bodies of their sons
and fathers getting ready to bury their daughters.
I see orphans too young and innocent
to fully comprehend what is happening.

Some fight out of anger and spite
and others out of pride and duty.
Some say it is for their kings and religions
others, for their honour and blood.
On either sides, pain and grief
outshine triumph and satisfaction.

Amongst the combatants,
A man sits on his brown horse
watching the massacre unfold.
Hair and beard like flames,
scars on his face
and eyes the color of the blood being shed before us,
he stares straight at me
as a man is stabbed in the back right in front of us.

His face is expressionless,
almost like a mask,
and the only decipherable emotion
is the burning rage dripping from his gaze.
this is the fourth and last installment of my horsemen of the apocalypse serie. I know it does not appeal to everybody but I had an impulse to do it..
her
Ciel Feb 2019
her
Her beauty was almost sinful,
but taking my eyes off of her
would have been blasphemous.
Ciel Feb 2019
Here's to our days spent swimming at the mills.
Here's to the snow days we wasted playing mafia.
Here's to the lame dances we attended just to complain.
Here's to the weird discussions we had at the dinner table.
Here's to the random snaps we sent in the groupchat.
Here's to the countless movies that we watched on Friday nights.
Here's to the arguments, screams and middle fingers.
Here's to the sleepovers, drunken mistakes and morning regrets.
Here's to the inside jokes, "***"s and stupid decisions.
Here's to the friendships that helped us grow.
Here's to the unforgettable moments that marked these past years.
Here's to us.
this poem is dedicated to my best friends as we get ready to graduate and move on to the next chapter of our lives
Ciel Feb 2019
I am sitting in the same bedroom I have had for the past 16 years,
staring at the same ceiling with glow in the dark stars plastered on it,
playing with the same ugly blanket my grandma gave me 7 years ago,
and hearing the same train whistles that used to drive me crazy.
Nothing around me has changed,
and yet I am homesick.
I am homesick not for a place,
but for a person.
I am homesick for the person I used to be,
or maybe for the person I will soon be.
Ciel Dec 2018
One day,
I allowed myself to let go.
I was no longer a label.
I was no longer a dancer.
I was no longer beautiful.
I was no longer a poet.
I was no longer a woman.
I was no longer black.
I just was.
Ciel Mar 2019
I miss you.

I miss your smile
and how your cheeks would rise
to reveal slightly yellowed teeth
creating wrinkles at the corner
of your small shiny black eyes.

I miss your loud and obnoxious laugh,
I miss your warm hugs.
I miss how you would laugh
At my childish jokes.
I miss your tickles when I was sad
And I miss your goodnight kisses.

I miss you
And I wish I could go back in time.
I wish I could relive all our moments together.
All those moments I failed to cherish until it was too late.
All those times you carried me on your shoulders folding my little hands into yours
All those times we danced in the middle of the kitchen to old french songs
All those times you kissed me on the forehead
And told me you loved me.
All those times I took you for granted.

I do not only mourn your loss,
I mourn all the moments we will never have together,
I mourn for my graduation without your hugs and kisses
I mourn for my wedding day without you to walk me down the aisle
I mourn for the birth of my first child without their grandpa to bless them.
I mourn for every minute this world has to exist without its kindest angel.

If only I had known that you would leave so soon
Then maybe I would have never left home
Or maybe I would have picked up the phone that day.

I miss you, papa,
More than I thought was humanly possible.
Ciel Mar 2019
I look up at the chaos around me
and see.
I see people saying their last prayers,
Waiting for their fateful endings,
I hear the church bell toll in its last call,
I feel the suffocating heat from the burning buildings,
I smell the smoke from the ignited city,
I taste the desperation in the air and the bitterness of regrets.

But in the middle of this tumult,
One thing stands out;
One person.

A little boy stands there in a tan attire,
dark gray ash contrasting his almost-white hair
and tears stains on his ivory cheeks.
A grim expression marking his features,
He shakes as if freezing
and although the heat has almost become unbearable,
he stands in the middle of the flames
barefoot yet unharmed.
A scythe lays at his feet,
and a pale horse stands by his side,
making his small body look even smaller.

As if feeling my stare,
he locks eyes with me.

And as the world burns down,
the reflection of the cataclysm in his brown eyes
and the look of innocent incomprehension he wears
is the single most heartbreaking thing in the moment.

Suddenly, I do not care about the screams and cry of the despondent goners.
I do not feel the harsh scorch of the burnt remains under my bare feet.
I do not mind the tears welling up in my eyes due to the fumes.
They are but a distant reminder of the atrocity surrounding me.
I can only focus on the strange guilt reflected in his warm eyes.

From those same eyes, a tear rolls down his cheeks
And as it reaches his dimpled chin,
he raises a little hand to wipe it away
And then waves at me.
I do not wave back,
too stunned to move or react,
But I could tell he did not expect me to anyways.

With one last look,
he picks up the scythe with an unusual easiness
and turns to walk towards the flames,
the horse close behind him.
And soon, they are one with the flames.
The first of the Four Horsemen series of poems: Death. This image came to me in a dream one night.
Ciel Mar 2019
I look at the despair around me
and see.
Men, women and children alike lay
on the ground in a sea of blood.
Their bodies unmoving
with their eyes still open wide in terror
and arrows in their chests.
Victims of a merciless quest,
their corpses decorate the ground
of the village that was once a happy place
but is now but a gory catacomb.

In the middle of the ravaged huts,
stands a woman.
With a silver crown sitting atop golden locks
and lifeless grey eyes,
she bears a white armor
stained with the red of the conquered
and a wooden bow in her left hand.

A frown wrinkles her ivory face,
and as she stares at me,
I am not scared
as I should be at the vision
of this blood-covered figure
but rather,
I am overcome with a feeling
of pity.
This is the second installment of the Four Horsemen Compilation: The conqueror on the white horse.
Ciel Oct 2019
I salute all the parents who sacrificed everything
to ensure a better life for their kids.
I feel for the kids that are constantly told they do not belong.
I celebrate the courage of the families who sought a new beginning.
I stand behind the immigrants, and the refugees.
Behind those who were brave enough to make a choice
and those who did not have one.
I stand by the kids who fight for a better future;
Those who claim a country that refuses to recognize them;
Those who are told to go back to a place they do not know.
I stand by those condemned for wanting to be alive.
I stand by those who dared to dream.
Ciel Apr 2019
I will tell the world about you.

I will sing it to the birds and the bees,
scream it to the sky and the seas,
even whisper it to the wind and the trees.

I will tell the world about you
and hope it knows about me too.
Ciel Nov 2018
Hold me
Like you used to.

Kiss me
Like you still love me.

Lie to me
Like you never did before.

I would rather bathe in an illusion
Than drown in misery
As I realize what I have lost.
Ciel Mar 2019
Sleepless nights,
gallons of coffee,
regretful decisions at primitive parties
with the cheapest alcohol that can be found,
stress-filled hours at the library,
followed by binge-eating sessions
staring in a textbook that is
worth more than my soul,
just to take a test that will determine
what my life becomes.

Oh, but what a glamorous life
college students lead.
Ciel Dec 2018
The times we danced together in the kitchen,
The moments we shared on the waterside,
The days we spent locked in our own world,
The hours we spent talking about the sky.
All those memories fly through my eyes,
playing like an old film
as tears stream down my face,
as I watch you kiss her,
and smile against her lips,
like you used to do against mine.
Ciel Dec 2018
I resent the water that gets to lick you all over every morning.
I envy the sun that gets to kiss your skin so softly.
I am jealous of the brush that gets to run through your hair.
I hate the pen that gets to feel your gentle touch.
And I begrudge the sheets that gets to wrap all around you as you sleep.
This is the first of a seven parts series I am working on called "The Seven Deadly Sins"
Ciel Sep 2019
She is a constellation wearing a human costume.
She has the cosmos in her eyes
and her soul is made of the brightest stars.
Ciel Feb 2019
Maybe some things we are not meant to understand,
maybe some things are meant to be curiously admired
and appreciated for their difference and mystery.
And maybe some people are the same as these things.
Ciel Dec 2018
Will we bask in the moonlight,
Or will we be consumed by the darkness of the night?
Ciel Nov 2018
I was hurting, suffering
From a pain so great,
That words, screams and tears
Were not enough.

So I did the only thing
I knew how to:
I danced,
And danced,
And danced some more.

I danced
Until my feet bled,
And my vision was blurry
From the sweat and fatigue;
Until I was breathing so hard
That it burned my lungs;
Until I could no longer feel
My legs aching;
Until my lips were so dry and chapped,
It hurt to smile or move them at all.

I let the music carry me,
And with every note,
With every beat,
I would imagine a string
Attaching to my limbs
Allowing me to lose control,
Allowing me to surrender
Until I was no longer in charge
Of my movements.

It felt good.
That pain felt comforting.
Normal. I understood it.
It let me know I was alive still.
It let me know I could still feel something.
And so I welcomed it.
For it was nothing compared
To the one that I felt inside.

The one that was invisible,
Yet suffocating me with its presence.
The one that left me numb every night.
The one that filled me up with fear
And still drained me of all emotions.

The one I tried to ignore,
But seemed to never leave.
Always stalking me,
Hiding in the shadows
Waiting for its moment.
A moment of weakness,
Of solitude
Or ultimate numbness,
A moment I was terrified
Would soon come.
I know this poem is sad and sombre but it is how I felt and I know a lot of people can relate. One thing I would like to say however is that it gets better. It really does. Once you decide to get better, you will.
Ciel Oct 2019
I feel a sharp pain in my chest;
A numb pain.
I gasp for air that seems to not be there.
I let out a scream,
But I cannot hear a thing.
My vision gets blurry.
I cannot think.
Silence. Cold. Numbness.
Has the pain disappeared?
Has the world stopped?

Papa,
Are you there?
Can you hear my voice?
Can you feel my pain?
Do you see my tears late at night
As I reminisce our times together?

Papa,
Please tell me why.
Why did you have to leave me?
Why am I not able to feel anymore?
Why is the world still spinning?
Am I the only one whose heart is chained?

Papa,
How I wish you were still here
To answer all my questions,
To guide me through this labyrinth that is life.
Two summers ago,
you went back home.
You are now at peace but
I would give the world to have more time with you
An hour, a minute, or even a second.
Just enough time for a hug, a kiss,
an ultimate “je t’aime” and a last “bonne nuit”.

Papa,
You were my first and eternal love.
My teacher, mentor and kindest critic.
You have always been my guardian angel.
From you, I learned to walk, swim and dance
But the greatest lesson you ever taught me
Was to forgive others and believe in myself.
You held my hand as I took my first steps,
Taught me to use my brain instead of my fists.
Your intelligence, faith and dedication
Were often the source of my admiration.
You dimmed me “Queen of my heart”,
And no one shall ever take that title away from me.
My conviction and passion,
My two most prized qualities,
Are nothing but a reflection
Of your great education.

Papa,
Although my heart aches,
my mind is at ease
knowing that you are finally free.
A few months from now,
I will be starting a new chapter of my life.
One that terrifies me,
But I know you are by my side.
I hope that when you look down upon me,
All you feel is pride.
I cannot deny the pain I feel
But the joy of your memory is far greater.
I have found myself doubting my faith lately,
But for the sake of potentially seeing you again ,
I am willing to believe.
Ciel Apr 2019
What is the meaning of patriotism?
Has it become synonym to blind loyalty?
Does it mean letting your morals be defined by your government?
Is it turning a blind eye to millions of people starving in another nation because your economy profits on the sale of guns to their oppressors?
Is it believing that one's life is more important than others'
based on where they were born?
Is it being complacent to bombing innocent people one after the other
for what their greedy government or a small percentage of extremists did?
Is it valuing the life of 10 of your citizen
more than a hundred of another country's?
Loving your country is normal
but inherently feeling morally superior to the rest of the world
because you were born within the invisible borders of a country
is idiotic.
Ciel Jan 2019
The coils on your head are the crowns
that were ripped from your ancestors' head.
The melanin in your skin is the reminder
of how the sun loved you when no one else would.
The stripes on your hips
are the representation of your growth.
The scars on your skin
are the proof that you won those battles.
So don't you dare be ashamed of them.
They make you who you are,
and you should be proud of it.
Ciel Mar 2019
Remember?

Remember when we were just kids?
When we used to dance in the rain?
without a worry and careless?
We did not think about how sick we might get
or how bad we would look with our soaked clothes.
We did not even worry about the following minute.
We were not worried about people watching us,
Hell, we did not even understand the notion of judgement.
we just lived in the moment.

The feeling of the droplets of water on our little faces
as we looked up at the sky laughing and waving at the clouds.
The movement of the water in harmony with our feet
as we tried to see who could make the biggest splash.
The happiness those little moments brought us
was greater than any menacing consequence
or possible future problems.

Those were simpler times.
Happier ones.
Ones I wish I could relive.

They are the ones we spend our whole life chasing after
without truly ever reaching them
  because
we think too much,
plan too much,
worry too much.
So much so that we sometimes forget to live.

If you can,
hold onto that innocence,
That fearlessness,
That carelessness,
That spontaneity,
for once you lose it,
once you conform to the absurd idea
of growing up being a synonym of worrying more,
you will have this hole in your spirit
this hole left by the lost of
a feeling we do eve have a name for.
Ciel Jan 2019
Do not get so lost in another's soul
that you forget what your own is made of.

Sure, let yourself float in the beautiful feeling that is love,
but make sure you do not forget how to swim in the process.

Too often we are told that love is selfless,
but not that it is sometimes ephemeral.

And once you lose it,
all you will have left will be
a lifetime of memories and yourself.

So do allow yourself to love,
but remember to love yourself first.
I have yet to learn how to follow my own advice, but this poem came from a place of self love.
Ciel Feb 2019
I got tired of waiting for you
to write a poem about me
So I did it myself.
Ciel Feb 2019
Stop comparing your pain to others'
Stop comparing your successes to others'
Stop comparing your life to others'
Stop comparing and start living.
This poem was inspired by the quote: "Comparison is the thief of joy".
Ciel Jan 2019
Descendant of proud tribesmen and daughter of mighty rulers,
I am the honored heir of warriors and wisemen.
Born and blessed with the bent of words,
I was bestowed the gift of Babel.

Survived the sight of my sanctuary
Being turned to a battlefield.
****** into war without a warning,
I danced with Death from dusk to dawn
Until I became the light and lured it away.
In the fight against life’s fatalities,
I vowed to be victorious. I swore to survive.

Sacred with a soldier’s soul
And the spirituality of saints,
I am destined to move mountains.
Unfazed and unapologetic, I am no longer afraid
Of the flames, for I have become the fire.
All the damaged petals, all the painful days,
All the broken pieces are the proclamation
That I prevailed. Pride pumps in my veins
As harmony and peace hum in my heart.
Ciel Apr 2019
I look at the horror around me
and see.
I see mothers and fathers helpless
as their hungry infants cry out.
I see men and women uselessly working the arid soil
in a last desperate attempt to feed their starving children.
I see folks weep as they are forced to choose between
nourishing their old parents or their young kids.
I see people so gaunt,
I can count each one of their ribs
as they shiver despite the extremely hot weather.
I see frail once-friends fight over a minuscule piece of bread.
I see a people suffering so greatly and so slowly
that death would come as deliverance to them.

And in the middle of deserted fields, dried up lakes and emaciated kids
stands a black figure.
Not a man nor a woman nor anything in between.
Just a dark ghostly figure holding a golden scale in its right hand.

I am mesmerized by the shadow and cannot help but stare
and although, it has no eyes,
I can feel it is staring back.
My curiosity disappears
as I am suddenly overcome
with a feeling of emptiness.
Ciel Mar 2019
Why do we always expect the people
who tore us down
to be the ones
to build us back up?
Ciel Jan 2019
Loving someone else more than you do yourself.

A romanticized ideal,
but a so very scary one.

How can one love so much?
I still do not understand.

Is it beautiful or foolish?
I have yet to decide.

Maybe because I have not met the one yet,
or because it is all a myth.

I guess only time can answer my questions.
In this poem, I do not mean loving your family, I mean a lover as in a significant other
War
Ciel Dec 2018
War
War.
One syllable.
Three letters.
Such a simple word.

Why then does it have such an immense power?
The power to break people.
The power to annihilate.

It rips children from their parents,
Tears lovers from each others’ arms.
It steals our youth
And smears our last days.
It divides the most united people,
Destroys the most beautiful of countries.

It is the greatest of hypocrites.
Some claim to fight for their countries,
Some for their oh-so-loving religion,
And others for their family's honour,
But all are driven by none other
than their own poisonous ego and pride.
And if not the individual,
The institutions sending them
To their certain demise is.

It kills most,
And those who escape it
Are left with a fate far worse than death:
An eternity of guilt and sorrow,
Of agonizing memories
And restless nights
Wondering what could have been.

It is filthy, corrupted and tainted.
Tainted with the crimson blood of the fallen,
The deep scars of the survivors,
The shrill cries of the mourners,
And the money of those in power.

And the greatest of its crimes:
The innocents pay the highest price.

You see those fancy politicians with tailored suits
standing in front of the crowds preaching
about the bravery of the people
who are being desensitised to killing
and taught to not feel or think but just obey?
They are not the ones who lay awake at night
too scared to close their eyes,
too afraid of their own minds.
They are not the ones who were told they were heroes
and yet came home to find themselves without support
sleeping every night on the cold concrete
in front of some big-name store whose owner probably
profited off the same ******* war that led them there.
They are not the ones who will try for the rest of their lives
To heal the generational trauma they inherited from their parents.

No, see those fancy politicians are going to go home tonight
to their big fancy house in their big fancy car protected on all sides.
They are going to have a great night of sleep
knowing they have just gained new funding for their campaign
by sending innocents to the slaughterhouse
so that the CEO of some oil company can make more money.
They are content knowing that
they have successfully put a price on a human life.

War.
A word that should evoke negative feelings
and yet has been so normalized that we no longer respond to it.
War.
A word that describes the most atrocious of realities
but that has somehow been made into a badge of honour.
War.
A word that should be feared and despised
but is instead weaponized to manipulate the people.
War.
A word that should never be the first option
but has become a shortcut for greedy rich people
with political influence to obtain more power and become richer.
War.
A word that was said to be associated with "barbaric", "uncivilized" people
but has somehow mostly been used by the "civilized" ones
and is now one of the pillars of modern capitalism.

War.
One syllable,
Three letters,
Just a ******* word.
Ciel Dec 2018
And when you finally let me go,
Will there be burns where your hands use to be?
Will I crumble to pieces without you holding me?
Or will my wings finally have enough space to spread
and carry me away?

— The End —