A chaste & lovely maiden
Loved a roughhewn sort of man
It was a strange attraction
The folk could never understand
But she lived in a great tower
In a foreign land.

The lad traversed the valleys
The tangled briars low
Great and craggy mountains
Replete with ice and snow
He knew that he must find her
But did not know where to go.

He questioned people far & wide
Of how to find the lass
Finally an old woman
Told him true at last
But guardians of gargoyles
Would let no one pass!

They would ask a riddle
That he would have to tell
What was found in plenty
At the bottom of a well
If he couldn't answer
They'd take him straight to hell!

The rough young man, he pondered
Yes, he was perplexed
He had no ready answer
Didn't know what to do next
He did not know the answer
And he was so sore vexed!

But a gentle voice he told him
Just like a tender kiss
What resides within a well
Is always a great wish.

So the lad, he faced his foe
So bold in his youth
His answer confounded them
Because it was the TRUTH.

He found the modest maiden
Straight away they wed
They had been kept apart
But had higher love instead!

The moral of this fable
Is the greatest wish in you
Should NOT BE GIVEN UP ON...

... FOR THEY MAY COME TRUE.

Catherine Jarvis
October 23, 2020

I always get this feeling
Feeling of boring
Laziness is with me
Tiredness is beside me
Overthinking make me weak
Avoiding it make me crazy
I am running and hiding
Trying hard to beat me

Am stuck in this place
Where every route leads to nothing
Waiting for someone
Anyone to save me
I am drowning but i can breathe
How long I'll last am still surviving
My vision is getting dimmer
I can't see what is around me
I do things while am blinded

Remove it, i scream out loud
Deep inside am scared of it
Attempt i made to take it out
But all my power is wasted
Wasted as i become fatigue in time
You can do it, a voice from inside
Motivate me but am not that strong
This feeling has hold me for too long

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.
“𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠.”

𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜, 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜, 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚢.
𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜, 𝚗𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚟𝚞𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚊 𝚘𝚏 ‘𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏’ 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎.



𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚜, 𝚏𝚞𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗.



𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚘𝚠.

𝚂𝚘𝚌𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢’𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚗:
“𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚌𝚛𝚢.”
“𝙱𝚘𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜.”
“𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐.”
𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚙𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚝.

𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚢, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖, 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚖𝚋 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝.
𝙷𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚞𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚢.

𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚝, 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚐𝚘.

𝙻𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚒𝚝, 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢.



𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍,
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔-𝚝𝚘-𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎.
𝙰 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐
𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗.

𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚍
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑.



𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝.

𝙸𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚟𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.
𝙻𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚝.

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝
𝙾𝚛 𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚞𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚞𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚎.



𝙴𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚕,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚙𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚜; 𝚒𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎
“𝚆𝚑𝚢?” 𝚖𝚊𝚢 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛.



𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚘𝚏,
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚑.
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚕𝚕 𝚓𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚑.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛,
𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚜𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜,
𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.

The empty locket of my heart
Beats useless in my chest.
the gold has faded,
weathered by time and trial.
I could pawn it,
sell it to the highest bidder with
a sickly sweet smile
and the empty promise of tomorrow.
Still I trace it,
mind full of fanciful dreams
of far-off places and a
partner-in-crime.
A romantic at heart
beaten down by hardships of time,
place a ribbon on me now,
blue to match my eyes,
and I’m good as new.

its just so painful,
so hard for me to comprehend,
that my very soul
would ever fit into the ciphering world,
to speak its lingua franca .

even the abc's seem like
like the burning sensations of a finger
roasting on burning coals.

the Ice never seems to melt under blazing heat
on which it lies

oh how my soul longs to dematerialize
yet i do wish i do not.

Failure is the only bell
that tolls my eardrums

oh why did my green soul  
pluck up the guts

the guts to enter the Kingdom of Geniuses?
i desire an army seal
to set me free
to be free as a citizen
inside this kingdom
The Kingdom of Geniuses

There's a pit-
      In my soul,
We'll find what might fit,
     Well, that's the goal,
A pound of Grade-A marijuana?
A lil' *****, yes I wanna',
A couple pills for the thrills,
Needles sure give me chills,
I'll try anything for the thrill!
...
But there's still a pit.

Plus, there's a hole-
     In my heart,
What'll make it full?
     Here's the art:
Driving sixty-nine in a thirty-five,
Punching the first person acting snide,
I'll eat my words till I burst,
Drink poison friendships; I feel worse,
And forget this vile, no good, gods-****** curse!
...
But there's still a hole.

And there's an ache,
     In my dome,
Keeping me awake,
     Yet I can't seem to leave it alone,
There's something busted in my head,
I bet I could fix it with some lead,
Or a sharp-as-sin knife,
Oh how Hell hath such tiring strife,
Oh don't, don't, don't, don't tell my wife!
...
But there's still an ache.

My soft beating heart needs complete peace
I want my soul to heal and rest at ease.

I'm bleeding from inside,
I want to run, I want to hide.

Wandering all alone in the midst of the crowd,
I hear my silence screaming out loud.

I am tired and could barely stand up
I want my heart to slowly mend up.

My dripping heart agonizes for peace,
Indeed, after every hardship comes an ease.
~Neha Khan

There’s gotta be something wrong with me
Where I fail to begin to see
Where you left and what’s in front of me
And how to keep walking when you’re gone
Pray, God, how do I go on?
I don’t want to go on
When kiss and hands held are shelved
Right next to my self-respect
View of me and you in kissing booths
That my mind cruelly projects
As I watch in horror
At things that keep saying goodbye
And yet they stay
And get their way
In my dismay, oh Lord, I cry
How do I go on?
Silence, darkness, no reply
Silence, darkness, no reply
Silence screaming thoughts, I try
Thoughts of only cloudy skies
No reply
You have dialed an incorrect number
Please hang up and try again
So we may test the other ways
Your faith in love can bend
I’m broken
As I found out 7 minutes ago the line was cut
The killer’s in the house, dear sir
I let her in, but now it’s shut
No hope for me in misery
I’m standing here, yet gone
These constants scenes in front of me
How do I go on?

Your heart rests in the palm of your father's sacrifice.
Your breath rests in the nostalgic wind that passes by him
When he remembers his past and reflects on your future.
Your colours run down the lines of your mother's smile,
Whenever she raises her hands to the sky,
Praying for you and a little more time,
Because she left her beating heart back home,
To become foreign and unknown only so you could grow.

Their complexions are painted with fatigue,
Because when you're sound asleep,
they run toward bordered walls,
so that when you wake up in the morning,
There will be open doors at your feet.

When a nostalgic wind passes by them,
They'll tell you stories of their childhood,
And they'll leave each word,
With a taste of reminiscence,
A hint of stolen years reflected in the teardrops,
That rest in the corner of their eyes,
And yet when they look towards you,
In seconds your reflection overshadows everything they once used to dream.

All for you...

Alone he walks down a rocky road,
shadow scattered with winding turns.
With canvas sacks he carries this load.
While eyes fall sleepy and muscles burn.

Each step taken with intention,
To reach the end of this twisted path.
Each step fueled by retention
of memories from distant past.

Alone he walks, as shadows laugh.
Nocturnal creatures stare, and jeer.
His lonely journey a social gaffe,
He takes solace behind a stoic veneer.

He never had roots, as the trees beside him.
But he met other caiteoiri along the way.
He spoke with them in moonlight dim,
With unspoken knowing that they would stray.

Not well understood, this roving man.
But those that tried could see his heart.
A vagabond that most have banned.
For reasons only seen in part.

Cricket chirps, they sound then subside
as he nears them along the crooked way.
They pick back up with distance wide.
He can sense the awful things they say.

He did not ask for this nightly trek.
Or to carry the burden of this sailcloth sack.
Sympathy is rarely a prospect.
Some folks never wander this stony track.

Some will say they understand,
but those that do, they know the truth.
That to say such things is sleight of hand.
No one can really know but you.