a poem written
on 15th of May
on the amidst of lonely 2018
with a shimmer of hope
for a beginning of lifetime
I remembered how it started
but now I don't want to remember
how things were changed
told you!
I'm freakin' right haha!
good for me, I believed
"... but not fully"

thank you, it hurts
when you came in just to leave.

He doesn’t talk much about where he came from;
maybe he’s scared the truth of the place would speak more than he could.
Maybe it’s hard to explain the hunger or the times the power goes off or the constant fear to someone who’s flown above it all.
Though we don’t talk about the sand or the fruit on the trees or what the rain feels like at the end of the day either.
We’ve lived moment to moment and learned what we know of each other through the present.
Somehow I yearn for this place I’ve gathered pieces of. The place I cannot know but that grew inside me.

to be
to yearn
to love
to learn
to live
to linger
to leave

Master has a new slave.
For years I've went from one diamond to another with no penny for my services.
Dug holes and buried daffodils,
Dug holes and buried daffodils.
Carried by the spirit that shall give life to my children,
Children to children's children.
I've worked the way of a slave and never let my master carry a *****.
'though time told too many stories of the previous slaves,
I hoped mine was that of the history pages.
The blood drips on my cold knees as I crawl the dark for a meal,
She usually brings me something nice,
Oh master what are we having tonight?

The master's table should be kept clean at all times,
We don't want master eating dirt, alright?
Master is late for her food tonight,
It must be a busy night.
She usually utters of her unwell businesses, I believe she is tired.
I feel the chains on my feet being loose,
Master won't like this one bit.
The trees tell tales of the old berries,
And those that bury often get buried by no one.
Master smiles and tells me to run as she holds a gun counting to ten.
I'd run a bit more faster but my feet are swollen and needs healing.
As the trees come closer, darkness comes to sight and master smiles as she sends the new slave to bury my corpse.

It is in the fall.
                  Fall.
                  Fall.
                  Fall.
                         We rise.
                 Rise.
         Rise.
Rise.

It is in being lost we are found,
it is in being bound we are freed.

Live, learn; prosper—rise.

Not only one chance; it is in your entire life.