A single candle lit.

A solo fire burning in solace to flip,

That which is dark within my soul

Into much more than that which is known -

That I’m broken,

and need redemption.

Quitting Is no easy job.
Packs of 20 get thrown away,
At least 5 times before the words
‘I’m done’
Can be released for your mouth to say.

So what’s your burden?
A traumatic incident formed from a full grown man, a child and some ****?
A mountain of reading, endless literature to form your statements into ones that are good?
Or is it an occupation?
One that you’re punishing yourself with, as a realisation from all of your revelations?

Burning sticks only point to one truth,
That you need more in your life to do.
Rather than let burning sticks do what they do best,
Fill your lungs with so much mud,
Air no longer passes through your chest.

But maybe it isn’t a burden.
Maybe it’s simply a yearning,
For you to finally feel something,
To give yourself an experience that reminds you of loving,
Or hating.

The game ends anyways so it’s alright.
Burning sticks may go out but you can always relight.
You may burn your lungs until you delight,
But just know that at the end of the day,
This is your own fight.

Steel gazes graze the fine lines of iron.

“Tin man, whom does your heart beat for?”

A man asks - voice roaming, ringing bells and bashing gongs.



For a moment all is still.

The shrill clanging of metal stops, the heavy puffs of air suspend.

The tin man looks at him and smiles.

“For myself good sir.”



The answer given adequate time, silence and negative space - the man responds.

“Yourself? Sanity and livelihood or selfishness and arrogance?”

The tin man stood quiet once again.



He had laboured for those who did not labour for him,

Given oil, rust and dirt for those who only lived to use and to hurt.

Why would he beat to give when those who would get spoke only to take?



“I once beat for others. I once donned flesh and matter, but it left me as a shell of myself - a diminished core and deafening chest.”

“I encountered a being of whimsical strength, who woke me up and took my shell to then place a pearl within me.”

“I now beat for myself as gratitude to him who lifted me up when all I could do was lay down.”



The man grabbed him round the neck, nails marking and whispered.

“Dear child, you’ve gotten it the wrong way round.”

“Your pearl was given to be taken away, to return you into the shell of the past."



And the tin man took those words, looked away and continued,

Walking off with the girl and her dog.

Away from the wizard, entrapping himself.

Let the father reminisce about the,
shepherd who failed to lead the sheep,
Lucifer falling asleep,
The souls he fails to reap,
Fall on blades of hellfire,
for the nether monsters to hold
And keep.

The figure is not a wolf,
Not a leopard,
But an innocent child.
Shrouded in the darkness of the wild.
His crimes,
Deeply filed in between,
His nails.
His responsibility to protect,
He fails.

A preacher,
Solely depended on,
A leader,
Solely repressing on,
The lies of a book.
Ones that cannot be overlooked,
Much like a rook,
On a chessboard.

I am the sheep that leads the shepherd,
not that the shepherd would ever lead me.
For you see,
good things don't come in threes,
they come in ones.
One bee.
A forest with one tree
One snake that made Eve flee.

I am the thunder that frightens the child,
scaring even those who are wild.
For you see,
butterflies don't fly,
they soar,
wings causing waves,
so strong,
it disrupts even the planet's core.

I am the pen that writes the tales,
a myth,
a legend,
attempts to amaze never fail.
For you see,
It is the writer that feels,
and the reader that touches.
My stories,
live,
not messed by airbrushes.

I woke up like this.
Face caked in sadness,
eyes swollen of pity and anger.

I woke up like this.
Heart slowly starting up,
veins warming up.

I woke up like this.
Arms bent out of shape,
legs spread out for -

I woke up like this.
Head spinning,
body sinning.

Did I sin?
Or did you?

If I ask you,

will you say yes?

Or will shallow feelings,

take over and mess?

Witness my heart,

beat off the chart.

For I fell for you,

the first day I saw you.