The tears speckle off my chin As I look up at the skies to question my own calling The stars shine amongst each other, twinkling in their wordless conversations as I wait for their response. The moon stares at me in silence. With a radiant half smile/half frown, as in to find both happiness and sadness in knowing something that I don’t. The constellations, unmoved and spilling no secrets, thirsting to be understood, showing themselves in both pattern and maze, become the reflection of my soul. Is my life moved by the moon, by the stars, by the constellations, I wonder. I plead in soft whisper, “Please help me, I don’t know where to go”. Yet the complex sky having nothing to say, points to my heart and says, “that way”.
To feel life One needs to feel The breath The only sound One needs to hear
Here, I'm Listening To the celestial testimony Blanketing the warmth With dopamine trinity Stimulated harmony Tender affinity A yang to a yin That's what I repeat To the believers of possibility Love is synchrony of The Minds And consciously submission of The Souls
Looking forward Step your way In search of your tribe Consoling resistance Living your dreams In a new abode And you'll find me
Every step I take towards living, I'm stepping away from my calling I'm stepping everywhere end up getting nowhere in search of stepping stones, to move up the ladder without grasping the idea that these stones, in due time, will be steps I climb up the downstair.
Am I trying to climb the ladder to nowhere? Am I stepping up or down? Am I kicking myself around?
I am so sick of it. All the self-pity. All the self-esteem issues. And all the pretending not to care while it’s tearing me up inside. No one understands. No one tries. I don’t want or expect them to understand either. Laughing about it doesn’t help. Yeah, during the day, I cover my issues with humor, but it’s scary at night. The moment I put my phone down, my thoughts consume me. It’s 5:07, and here I am, again can’t sleep. I don’t like being alone with my thoughts. I guess I shouldn’t have had that coffee. But now I am no longer afraid of the monsters under my bed; I am afraid of the demons that live in my head. It’s consuming me. I want to be happy. I want to be good. I want to let things go. I can’t. I try every day. It’s not working. It’s not about being good enough. I am so lost. I used to be someone. Who? I don’t remember. When I look at the mirror now, I see a lost girl who is tired of being broken. She isn’t waiting for anyone to come by with a roll of tape to fix her. She wants to heal. No one understands her. All the overthinking and doubts creep up on me. I wrap my blanket a bit tighter on a hot summer night to feel safer. It’s not okay. What am I so afraid of? Why can’t I find my calling? I don’t know who I am. I want to find myself. I want to heal myself. I deserve that. I do! I want to look at a sunrise, knowing it’s a new day where I let go.