Yes,
I feel the weight on my shoulders.

Bending forward with an
invisibility

Balancing Atlas's world on my shoulders.

so young, so fragile, but
strong

I can carry the weight
of my own problems

I'll drop mine
to carry yours
if I have to

It would be a pleasure to see the ball
rolling down

an endless hill
of sacrifice

I feel the red blood
dark blood
rushin through my veins

and in that moment,  I know-
I'm strong enough to carry
whatever you have for me

I'll carry yours too

let my Achille's heel shine
I won't cover it up

show it to the world
I'm not afraid of what's to come

go with the flow

let the events rush through my head

I stopped thinking
about every single thing

my instincts led me
to this place

and now I have to follow through
can't just stop in the middle of traffic.

I'm not tempted by Aphrodite
and all
the petty things

your words in my ear
they become boring nonsense

I go with the flow
of my favorite tune
and just let it go

let it flow

use my bones as firewood
to light that passion of yours

you can use me,
**** me,
to rekindle your heart

my skin
will turn to dirt and decompose

you can use my remnants
for your own good.

because i will jump into a canyon for you,
even when you are long gone.

i will be here,
waiting,
until the stars look down on me and say,
she has been standing there longer than i have been in the sky.

burn my heart.
if you need to

because i will sacrifice my flesh
for your own passion

time                                                                          

to play        

with feelings                              

☺︎    

time                                                                        

to *****                

with                                                      
their  

thoughts                                

and make them                                                                    

feel                      
useless    

a                                  
n                              
d                            

worthless                                                    
☺︎

my thoughts are dead
my soul is a ghost
inside a living zombie

my brain is dead
the brain cells are dead
from not thinking for a millennium

my mind is made up of half truths
they are lies.
but they are half truths.

for they are not truths,
and if they are not true,
they are lies.

my soul is lazy.
just wanting to sink in my puddle of tears,
sea of pity,
pool of problems.

slowly
drowning

sinking to the bottom
where i will never unravel
the tangle
of my thoughts

my skin are rags
concealing my death

it's why i wear black everyday,

because i want
to attend
my funeral

i think my thoughts should be convicted of ******.
my feelings deserve to go to jail.
my problems should be arrested,
the shoulders of my frail body
bending

underneath the weight of the world

they say his eyes are like the sea,
having difference of depth

different thoughts on different levels
darker, the deeper you go

some say that his eyes are like the moon
reflecting the sun's light

beautiful, round, and celestial;
always there,
staring back at you.

some say his eyes are the most truthful parts about him.
they say eyes don't lie,

the gaze must waver when they lie,
they say.

she says his eyes are dreamy.
the color of the hellfire,

or vibrant as obsidian.

people always tell me,
fall in love with the eyes that you would never tire from looking at.
fall in love with the person that has those eyes.

why do your eyes hold my stare
when you're obviously lying?

I still like you, your lips shaped.
then coming forward with arms stretched.

and enveloping me in safety and warmth.

your eyes were like anyone else's.
they were nothing special,
but the camera of my world.

your eyes didn't mean much to me,
just something i avoided looking at.

it made me nervous,
in a good kind of way.

but over time,
as you started to fray from my grasp,

i looked into the devils of your pupils.
the sin behind it,
the black lies,
mangled with white pure truths.

mixing into a gray
inseparable
that just blackens eventually.

where truths become lies,
you convince yourself that lies are truths;

your eyes staring,
but your thoughts lying.

your eyes were never the moon, nor the sea.
they just said what i wanted to hear,
but never
the quintessence of truths.

Is it just me,
or are mirrors weird?

They reflect who you are;
no;
they reflect the opposition
of your composition

Do reflections reflect
who you really are?
Or do they give
a false impression?

The flat surface
reflects
your reflection

Put your finger to the mirror
and if your fingers touch,
it is double sided.
I do say, indeed, mirrors are strange.

Why do mirrors bounce light of my reflection?
Why does my reflection reflect?
Is it trapped in,
or,
is it trapped out?

Is there a parallel world
in which, mirrors are portals?

Is my reflection staring at me,
wondering the same things?

What if the glass blocks me out of the parallel reality,
or rather,
protects me from the harsh, gray reality?