When they are at your door
you already know, it already is
too big to comprehend

Heaven does not help me
I don't understand the higher purpose
of the war, I can only hope

for an outcome that makes sense
We are promised soft fruit
but we get stones to eat

Luck turns, coalitions switch
and we stay behind, without help
and love we keep plodding on

until an illness releases us
from the hard life
we never dreamed of

Each step is taken                      
                                for granted.

Confident that the terrain will remain
unchanged, solid and dependable beneath
our feet, beaten down by the ones
who have walked before us,
we forget to think about
our destination, and when the
path inevitably betrays our trust,
our arrogant stride falters
as the world shifts beneath our soles.

It is no wonder that we stumble when
trying to blaze our own trail.
So, remember to be wary about
where you step on your quest
for answers.

Life is not viewed linear:
not a happier year, a worse day;
It's the bigger picture and the sum of each day that make up the whole puzzle.

You can't say you had a boring year, or a sadder year and compare it to the past years.
You can have a sad day and it's still a beautiful life.

For life to be viewed as beautiful, it does not have to be pretty or happy all the time.

And to be fair, life is a mosaic.
And a ******* hard-to-interpret artwork. And art is meant to be messy, unstable, hard to look at:
but still amazing, beautiful and interesting.

Imagine an artwork, with super easy strokes to define
and colours that are too vibrant to name, would that be still amazing?
Sure it is, still!

But the most beautiful artworks are probably one that poured with a whirlwind of emotions and
thoughts one can't easily decipher — unfathomable, ineffable, and makes one wonder and wander.

I'm Alive
But only still.
Can't thrive
Cold is shrill.
Fight & Fight
Work & Pain.
Suffering,
But All
In Vain.
Hours glide by
I'm still bored.
Crying on my
Bathroom Floor.
I'm Tired
Of this silly
Game.
You tell me
To Play,
But that won"t
Fix my
Shame.

I’ll be here with my arms stretched wide

Ready to catch a break

Instead of all these curveballs

That keep hitting me in the face

I don’t even like baseball

⚾️

I am torn
Ripped apart
Fragments of regret pile
Cherished memories make it harder
To let go of years shared as one
I want to carry on
Make the most of life without you
I chose this path without you
And yet I cling to distant highlights of our lovereel
How brillant and sabotaging that our brain only recalls the good after the darkness has lifted

I feel as though I am a slave to destruction, knees nailed to rickety floorboards that creak against creation. I am head bowed, pleading for pleasure against the cacophony of the ******, washing white floors with grime. I am the harbinger of ends, an omen of unhappiness. I am question marks, red streaks, spilled coffee on loved words. I am torment, tormented by the ways I’ve been tormenting the things I love. I am oceans inviting and striking with no warning, hurricanes gently shaking before swallowing and devastating, promise land offering refuge and whiting out identities because nobody gets to be free. I am shackled to remorse, self hatred, anxiety. A prisoner of pain, daughter of broken glass, born in spider breaks, marked by shards and splinters. I am the whisper of ruin rattled through crows calling home across worlds and realms. I am jutted bones cutting into flesh collecting blood for breakfast and sorrow for supper, feeding famine to families I am familiarly unfamiliar with. I am cast away, fallen angel, victim to the rise of hope and sequestered from safety. Left to forage fight in fields long forgotten, to discover decades of indecency and be punished by punishing the lucky ones. The thinned wrist souls slipping from restraints, to make commodity of clear consciouses, and deliver doom promised by our ancestors. I am an agent of misery, a companion of karma, nothing more than a slave to destruction.