They said, out of concern,
“Don’t be too different—
But also be you.”
How do I do both
When they are the same?

To be myself is to be different.
To dim one is to **** the other.
So I stay silent, still—
Caged by the image they built of me.

I want to rise,
Put people in their place,
But I’m scared—
Scared to shatter
Their carefully crafted illusion.

So I freeze.
My inner diva
Glitters behind glass,
While I nod, polite,
And shrink into safety.

Only a few
Get close enough to see my rage—
The irony?
It flares at them the most.
Because I trust them.
Because I can.

I. TARNISH
We procreate fate, from bones to belief,
Wearing faith like a second skin— daily
soiled, weather-worn by noise and news.

Socially religious; actions are mere talk
we preach in later posts, and not prayers.
We remember songs line for line, forgetting
words to the Word, that once shaped us.

II. INTERROGATION
Where is your faith? —asks the heart.
Where will you be in five years? —asks the mind.

And there—between tears and time— laziness
holds patience, procrastination becomes a religion.
As I wear the mask of a man knowing what he’s
doing, but the fit is too perfect –to ever feel like
Truth.

III. CONFESSION
O Lord, hear the slow-breaking cry of my soul,
lest I forget the sound of my own weeping.

My prayers, once daily bread, are now scattered
crumbs, too few, too faint to carry my mourning,
Into the morning. And you won't hear the dirge
in my less frequent prayers or their “Amen.”

Take the time—don’t just spend it— to watch your grind,
These dreams are brewed, steeped behind these caffeine eyes.
Still, as the sunrise scripts its golden lines, my gaze still delays
Having to put on a daily mask; trapped in yesterday’s disguise.
All of these borrowed hours lace my breath, thinned and worn,
All these seconds spent on second-guessing myself; I’m torn—
Barely paying attention to obvious life lessons due in reflection;
Skipping those lessons, now I pay with life's collection.

As for facing my many regrets, it proves facing the glass—
But not all mirrors can clearly cut clean through the past.
Truths are warped, wrapped for the present, for who peer—
Peering in, fragile as much, cracked, and smeared with fear.
We search within ourselves, as all seekers must willingly do,
Searching for a love clear as glass — one that is sharp, and true.
As peach blossoms fall, and small stones roll, know: that through
The times of picking yourself up, some dust gets stuck on you.

The world isn’t so clear, especially if man’s clarity is uninvolved;
Profiting from all our scars – given titles hanging over ourselves
So many times, that prophets need to remind us of who we are
Profits, or prophets, but it all depends on who’s worth you trust.

Body:

“The thing is—you all can never compete with me.
I came to be when he no longer craved to be him.
I was forged as reminder, a warning:
That the fall would be brutal if he slipped even an inch.
But he stood tall, brimming with will and flame.
Now look at what you’ve all done to him.”

The body cries in agony.
The pain went away—
But the scars never did.

Mind:

“The boy was prepared, but green—
He pulled through, yes, but it cost him everything.
And now you boast of being unbroken?
It was I who inhaled the fumes,
Took in the blades of thought,
Endured the bruises that whispered ruin beneath the skin.
While you remained, stagnant and crude—
A venom sapping every ounce of his fortitude.
Like a Geist twined with Grue,
I was meant to imagine, to narrate, to survive and renew.
But your pride will drown us in this undertow.
You act like this is all a game?
No wonder they gave you the role they did.”

The mind counters, fire in its breath.
The mental quivers with angst.
The memories went away—
But the scars never did.

Spirit:

“Me? I was never told to share—only to care.
Maybe I came too late.
I always prayed for our fair,
But the universe doesn’t barter in balance.
It demands variation, disruption,
To witness, to scatter, to shimmer through us.
It hums a silence so vast it aches—
Searching for vessels to cradle its flair.
It has no morality, no mercy,
Only the echo of what it wills.
What we do is all it ever notices.
We are its muse,
Dancing to a symphony that stretches beyond the stars.”

The Spirit spoke, and silence fell.
The body and mind, though bruised and bitter,
Rekindled their uneasy affair.
But the Spirit wept—not out of pain,
But for the truth laid bare.

It was a dilemma no one could deny.
The tune was silent—
Yet louder than ever.
An unheard melody drifting from afar.
A Symphony of Scars.

                                                              -Asher Graves

Lies are mercy, aren't they?
Little bandages over wounds too raw to touch,
soft words wrapped around a blade-
because what's a little blood between friends?

They call them shadows.
but don't they have weight?
Haven't they sat beside us at dinner tables,
held our hands at funerals.
kissed our foreheads goodnight?
Haven't they whispered in our ears-
"Shh. The truth would only ruin this."

People wear them like armor,
stitched with good intentions
because nothing says I care
like a well-tailored deception.
But armor rusts.
Tongues slip.
And no one likes the taste of old lies.

They lie because the world doesn't want the truth
Because the mirror would rather blur the cracks
than reflect the hollow-eyed thing staring back.
Because I'm fine
is easier than I haven't slept in days.
Because It's okay
is a free pass to avoid confrontation.
Because some truths burn.
and some people would rather drown in gasoline
than risk lighting the match.

Lies keep love alive, don't they?
One says, I'll never leave.
The other doesn't ask What if you do?
One says. I trust you.
They both pretend it's true.
Betrayals become misunderstandings.
Silence becomes space.
Absence becomes freedom.
Say it enough, and it sounds real.
Believe it enough, and maybe it doesn't hurt.

But lies don't stay small.
They grow ribs
Grow teeth.
Learn to walk on their own.

They slip from tongues like prayers-
practiced, automatic.
holy in their own way.
They turn love into a contract.
guilt into a leash,
truth into an inconvenience.
They say, You are safe.
They say. You are right.
They say. You had no choice.

Then-
a crack in the mask,
a break in the voice,
a silence too loud to ignore.

And suddenly, the truth isn't some mythical beast,
not a monster waiting under the bed.
If's just there, standing in the doorway.
waiting. Watching.
Tired of being the villain in
someone else's story.

Lies aren't mercy, are they?
Just wounds left open too long-
festering, rotting, waiting to be called by
their real name

I chased a river that flowed not for me,
A desert thirst, in need of a touch,
But it never quenched, nor did it set me free—
A ghost of water, the hollow's crutch.

Yet still I ran, for the race was the relief,
And the thirst was never gone,
The closer I came, the deeper my grief,
But I knew, I knew, I had to move on

One side craves the fleeting touch,
Another longs for something real,
Both of them, a tangled clutch,
Waging war inside my mind's steel.

I feel the pull, the burn, the tug,
Both sides whispering to my soul—
One says, "Stay," the other says, "Let go,"
And I am left, alone, with no control

The screen glows with false embrace,
A fleeting balm to soothe my pain,
A world of warmth in pixel’s grace,
But as it fades, so does the gain.

The comfort, fleeting, like morning mist,
It wraps me up, then fades away—
But in that warmth, my heart persists,
To search for solace, come what may

Beyond the Glass
I seek a hand I cannot touch,
A voice that whispers through the screen,
In virtual spaces, I crave so much,
The love I’ve never yet seen.

But still, I reach, I yearn, I chase,
For something more than pixel's light—
I long to find a sacred space,
Where hearts can meet beyond the night

What am I but fragments, torn,
Pieces scattered in the dust?
I need to rebuild, from what I’ve mourned,
Relearn the way, and find the trust.

I see the cracks, but there’s no fear,
Only a chance to fill the space—
To build anew, to reappear,
To find my strength, to find my place

A clash of needs, a war of wants,
One says to chase the fleeting thrill,
Another urges, “Wait, be strong,”
The heart is torn, the soul stands still.

For what is comfort but a cage?
And what is pain but growth’s sweet sting?
To choose the short-term for the wage,
Or face the future, and let it sing?

I wander through the uncertain haze,
The road unknown, but filled with choice,
A path unmarked, in shadowed maze,
I seek a light, I seek a voice.

What is it all, but one grand test?
The answers fade before my eyes—
But in the struggle, in the quest,
I find the truth beneath the lies

I stare into the glass that cracks,
And find a face I do not know—
The cracks are me, but not the facts,
The truth is hidden in the glow.

Who am I, when all is gone?
A shadow lost, a broken dream?
But in the void, I carry on,
For in my mind, I still may gleam.

Hey There!!
Calm and collected! You sure?
Look at you—
All humble and fake.
Is that all it takes
To be a human?

Too naïve and fragile,
Yet you struggle and survive.
You sure this is the right way to thrive?

Don’t be arrogant,
Think of a solution,
Battle your demons and
Don’t act impulsive…
...

But where’s the fun in that?
You think and think and think, and come up with that?
Is it your stomach grumbling, or
Is it your brain sighing?

Come on, don’t "think" now.
I’ll give you the answer—
The pleasure is all mine.

I was there,
Filled with compassion, adoring your design.
While you were a little boy,
You looked ferocious. You were determined!

Twenty years later,
You feel all worthless.
All you do is whine.

Where is the charisma?
Where is the shine?

It pains me to tell you this,
But we are running out of time.
Give me the control, and
Wait for my sign.

I promise,
Your presence won’t ever be ridiculed,
Your eminence will never be outshined.

Don’t ridicule me with such flattery.
Won’t you listen to me, your majesty?
Sure, you feel sad and shattered,
But wouldn’t you rather be this way?

Mistaking growth for tragedy,
They say:
Relinquish your heart from mockery.
Mayday—
Frightening is your disgraceful savagery!

Stop with the excuse,
Don’t loosen the noose.
You want a better life?
Just hop in and pursue!

Sure, what he says is tempting,
But I’d rather be here, presenting
To you,
The answer to your pain and resentment.

You shouldn’t be here lamenting.
Mark my words and heed what I say.
Don’t listen to that coward—
Here, let me make your way.

It’s bound to be suspenseful.
It’s bound to be cruel.
Don’t look at me like that—
You know it all too well.

I’m the feeling you long lost,
Yet you never gave up on trust.
I’m Hope,
The miraculous outburst.

Life is tough,
Not a whack-a-mole game.
I hope you understand:
Listening to him is just in vain.

Now, don’t accuse me of temptation—
It’s my very nature!
Can’t call it quits now, can I?
I guess I should show some determination.

I was born at the dawn of creation.
To put it simply:
Would you rather choose me and feel this soothing sensation,
Or
Choose him and relive all those dreadful accusations?

The decision is for you to make.
I’m just as important as he is.
I put in all my stake.

And you,
You are pretty mean to me, but I respect you for that.
If it wasn’t for you, I’d have gone, “Boom” Splat!

It’s cause with you comes the hardship,
And with you comes the wrath.

People get frustrated,
Desperate to look for a path.

The look on their face and the pressure on the back—
How can I miss such delicacy?
Oh! How amusing is that!

You want me to move away?
Na-uh, I ain’t doin’ that!

Making a mockery of your own kind?
Stalemating me?
Just so you can outshine?

That’s some pretty ***** trick you got up your sleeve.
Yet you go around accusing me of being a thief.

Unreasonable, isn’t it?
When he secures something,
When he gets a win—
You float like a butterfly.
You become the limelight.
You become “the thing.”

You take away the credit,
You took away everything!

But when he gets down—
Tarnished, hopeless, and doing everything on a whim—
When he succumbs to despair,
Who’s there with him?

I used to respect you for being tough.
Look at you now, coming at your brother like that.

I’m also something.
Just like you,
I too was given a task.

At least I’m honest.
I know I can cause pain.
There’s a term called “False Hope”—
Ever heard anyone feeling “False Pain”?

Life’s not a fairy tale.
I know, alright.
I can give him happiness,
I can make him smile.

I know I’m tempting him, but
It’ll be worth a while.
All you did was strangle him.
All he felt was not right.

I just wanna control him,
Make him feel alright.
Don’t give him no false hope.
Don’t make him feel traumatized.

It’s okay to be heartless.
It’s okay for him to hit rock bottom once in a while.

If Hope can flourish him and it can make him shine,
Do take the role of father figure—
It’s your duty to guide.

I understand your goal,
And I won’t hold you back.
I was born a pushover,
And I’m fine being that.

Don’t misunderstand me—
I ain’t plain as that.

I’m sinister.
I’m always there to keep you on track.
I’m always there to ensure he never gets up on his back.

I’m the hurdle he must clear.
I’m the obstacle he must pass.

And he needs you, brother,
To overcome me—
To overcome my wrath.

“With that said, whom do you choose?” both said and looked onto me.
As bewildered as I was,
I was more confused.

To choose among these two isn’t child’s play.
One will live, but one will be slain.
Like two counterforces, both can’t coexist—much to my dismay.

I thought and was about to choose,
When I suddenly opened my eyes, stunned.

Was it a dream, or have I finally succumbed
To insanity?

I pondered about the question both had asked,
And I realized I was outclassed—
Not by the amount of reasons,
Not by the sheer pressure.

I simply couldn’t choose.
Should I opt for the king of treason to live a comfortable life, but with no rhyme or reason,
Or
Should I choose the voice that you hear when you loosen the noose on a rope?

I was uncertain before, and I’m uncertain now.
Maybe someday I’ll prosper.
Maybe someday I’ll be happier.

Until then, it’s me—
And my Uncertainties.

                                                                                      -Asher Graves

….
….
The door drew fate.
A face amidst the darkness?
My anxiety inflates.
…
…
A passing day draws in darkness,
each day an eye sees me.
My senses urge, trying to decree;
For It finally began,
It now watches, it can now see.

…
…
I have fled my place,
But will it ever follow?
I closed the lights,
lifted them in darkness,
My feelings ever hollow.
…
…
I may be crazy,
But this is forever true.

It was never like this,
It was my fault.
I had defeated my own nightmare no less,
But my actions caused it to bless.
A cage in a basement I made,
It turned that to its charade.

Now I shall find something to confront,
It shall never leave my front.
An existence that shouldn’t exist.
I shall annihilate that, fist with fist.

An old shadow, with yellow flaming eyes.
I looked in past at time, I try,
Four preceding angelic numbers of time,
Guided times hand to defeat;
It was something, my greatest feat.
The nightmare that I caged.

𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥
𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵.

For I shall now figure this cursed time,
Else I will meet an inevitable demise.

The thunder , fell upon clouds
The clouds ,started growling  aloud
The shadows falls,
As the sun was hidden
The trees were  stiffen.

The waves grew still, their rhythm destroyed,
An endless echo, a vast, dark void.
The way peace mused,
It Made him annoyed.

He was a pirate ,
in the clouds
He sailed,
Born with a sword,
and chaos
Embraced.

He was a fighter for peace,
He fought,
But never saw it front....
He sailed distant clouds
But never was stunned ,
He was annoyed with peace .
He longed to soar through waves
And clouds to pierce
And  the pirate who gave him fight
So fierce.

The sword which he lived by,
The blood that it missed by
If it is not peace , he thought
Then what is it for which
He fought.

He was confused to sail
Backed no wind ,
To row they fail.
He saw the sun settling
With sorrow ,
As he hoped for another
Day from God to borrow.

At distant in his heart
A never ending beat....
Dry throat ,
numb eyes,
Sweat a drop ,No summer & heat
Smiling with lips
As he uttered
" Is it a pirate's defeat"!?

A lonely heart yearning for connection,
Wandering soul, searching for purpose,
Conflicted, unsure of whom to listen to—
Mind, body, or the heart.
Scared, yet determined on this hopeful path,
Walking the road one step at a time,
Leaving his trail behind.