Whenever I try to write about her I feel like I don't have enough space on my paper How can I define her? When I myself originated from her definition How can I restrict her within a few lines? When my entire words are enslaved before her How can I portray her life in a poem? When my own life is indebted to her...
And even if she herself asks to write her down Then also, a tale for her won't be enough Even if to summarise her down I'd need to write a novel or two And if she asks to be drawn down Then nothing would be tougher than this 'Cause a canvas won't be able to hold her entire explosion of colours And to counter that, I'd only be left with a single option... To build an art castle in a space not less than the sun!
stomach aches, anxious daze body anxiety ruining the day candles burn, ravens sing the feeling of death is sinking in acceptance, repentance anger comes in waves transcendent, independence refining my old ways
I plea for my mother’s spirit to wait for me before the ascension because I want to know more beyond her sun, moon and stars; for her to show me the other colors hidden inside her; shades my crafted words can only reflect in broken shards.
She draws me a symbol for a word only known to her and God, a word so complex I can never remember how to draw it, never define it fully and can only stutter- a seed stuck in my throat- whenever I try to release its sounds to the world.
Decent for dessent That’s how it’s rhythm went As the conflict came to rise like the spark inside a fire Intrepid since creation We’ve been walking many wires Feigning fear to To try and feel A discernment of what is real but what’s disregarded is the fact you even have to question Ignorance is bliss? Or strength in your intention? Thought cannot be the only thing to exist However a zombie is a waste if it doesn’t eat brains Have a little taste of a musing ride That brings the flavor, you’ll need a guide Spirit Clear it Hear it and run Takin’ a century can it be done? The meeting as one Secret salvation the secret is done Are they telling in whispers and walking like drifters They’re tripping on papers it’s time to re gift it explain in due time ya never could fake this Always trying to break us But the music is strong and it’s beat will make us The beings that we are the worlds we are The birth of the universe from another’s dying star We are the afterlife of another existence Brand new creation looking for witness Billions of years to finally have it here and now it could easily disappear Reality is what? Desire and emptiness? Why’s the door shut every time I vent through this Aging agitation Buried vegetation It’s time to find the faults within and bless it all with love so that the veil may fall and the world may hear it’s original name, but for now it shall be a very long game
I had a different name It was "Undiscovered" Now this name, no longer my cover There's a darker truth as to why it's updated to "October" Tears of joy, tears of sadness They all share this amber month of blackness A deep history of sight The pain and origin of why I write
Her name was Erin She was beautiful She was young Erin, was special and Rhett's, without doubt, the devil The disease rendered her without brain function Resulted in physical mutation Erin, had an expiration The day came In the same month born She would, from this life, be torn