If to live a fairytale life is to
wait for your Prince
to rescue you from the tower
while you lend him your hair,
be recognised by the shoe that fits you,
or be kissed to life,
then I'm better off living a nightmare
where I am my own tormentor ~ and saviour.

sticking to my guns,
i never realized that
they’re pointing at me.

you pay the levies
you grant the deceits
you fall behind
you fall from grace
you freefall
you get what you deserve
you deserve what you get
you take your time
you partake
you mistake
you get the point
you get by
you yearn
you learn
you lone
you moan
you atone

you know the stakes
you do what it takes
it’s all you

a sense of desertion
combined with
a sense of purpose
is a lethal combination;
false, or true.

a gust of wind sweeping through
an abandoned campfire,
in the right direction
(𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦)
will take down the
entire forest.

You, once became a shade in the middle of a mirage,
Teaching the meaning of trust even though the world is gray
Among the ever-changing dune,
Our steps were once in rhythm, against the wind.

I know, the desert wind will not wait,
When the traces are finally swept away by time,
Memories become small hills on the horizon.

The sun sets,
Replaced by a cold night
And you whisper,
Not all wounds must be driven away,
Let it settle in a corner of the heart,
As a small lantern in the long night.

Now, I walk,
Carrying the burden of longing on my back,
With your shadow behind
Our story is like a small oasis
Which I sip enough to keep walking
Where I have found meaning among the barren sands.

No prize awaits the perfect line,
No end to chasing stars that shine.
Yet life, in whispers soft and sweet,
Is perfect where its flaws compete.

A jagged edge, a broken song,
The fleeting days both short and long.
A tender laugh, a bitter tear,
The dance of hope, the brush of fear.

Each crack upon the earth’s old face,
Each shadow in the moon’s embrace,
Reminds us there’s no need to mend
The truths that shape us in the end.

For in the chaos, beauty grows,
In every loss, a seedling sows.
Life’s perfection, wild and free,
Is simply this: to let it be.