Time has fed a burning fire with dying embers.
A dwindling light in the winter wind, flickering
As the night sought to put it out but could not,
Resisted death and not once lost its light.

Still I pitied it. A candle hanging by a thread,
Waging quarrels with the wind, found no solace
In my cupped hands. The cold and bitter tears
Of these winter nights pelted its withering spirit.

No one could ever dream to have you beat
in self destruction, self pity and defeat,
it’s almost bittersweet.
But you get by, it’s you not I,
you get by with a plan to only die.
Yes you get by, with any chance to cry,
never noticing another’s sigh.

You know with all the licks you’ve been taking,
we’re both surprised that you’re still waking.
Oh and with the hits you’ll keep taking,
don’t be surprised that you’re still shaking.

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
slam our heads together; we’ll forget if not solve them.
So what’s your story you’ve got for me today?

I am no stranger to your sad tales,
though you push them right off the rails,
and my own attempt is exempt and always fails,
I’d have better luck pitching them as sales.
As you’d get by, just for a high,
only to try with your plan to die.
Yes you get by, it’s always you not I,
claiming life’s got you in it’s eye.

You know with all the kicks you’ve been taking,
it’s a wonder you’re still not breaking.
Oh and all the tricks you’ve been making,
are you shocked we think you’re faking?

Let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
you act the saint and cast I as the goblin.
So what’s your story, exaggerated allegory, today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
my hands are full but do you need a tissue?
I’ll say sorry, just ignore me and what I have to say.

So open up the bursting flood gate
direct the flow to where I seem to wait,
it’s truly my ears that suffer the most,
I abandoned thought not my post, though I now am late.
But you get by, and still yet defy
magnify on your plans to die.
You’ll always get by, call it a lie,
focusing on rain ignoring you’re dry.

Oh with all the trips you’ve been taking,
It’s no surprise you’ve been strongly flaking.
And with the drips and the lies that have been caking,
you can’t comprehend anyone else aching.

So let’s get straight to the root of the problem,
I’ll start a list and another separate column.
So what’s your story, for attention or glory today?
Let’s cut right to the root of the issue,
hands on your neck and checking your wrist too,
it’s mandatory and obligatory, but morally grey.

Nothing worth reporting besides the usual
Importance of ignoring negligent thoughts
That seek to destroy me,
Harboring inside me,
A caged bird with a broken wing.
Hope calls out in many ways,
Still your surroundings to hear its bays.
Quiet. Listen.
It’s seeking you in earnest,
Its mysterious hands fiddling with
The lock of your entrapment.
Soon, you will have the strength
To pursue all of your dreams.
But right now, you’re too consumed
By the hopelessness of your confinement.
The bars disappear when you look at them
A certain way. Illusory, these posts, these chains.
Break free, some sympathy may come your way,
And unleash you, teach you how to fly with your handicaps.
Don’t look back, once you’re released -
Fly over the valleys and the rivers, wherever you please.
Fly brave, fly free.
Continue to seek
All that seems out of your reach.
Bathe in the waterfalls of your fortune.
It’s yours, after all.
You have this as your guiding motion.
Snap back to your present situation.
You see the cage, you feel your stuntedness,
Your loss from grace,
From freedom, the chase,
You so earnestly thought you’d finally taste.
One day, it’s yours.
Just hold on to hope, on to your scope,
The sights and the breeze under your wings,
It’s all yours, always has been, always will,
And still, I know it stings.
Listen to the way the ocean sings,
Once you make it there, I know you will,
But for now, let the ink spill and spell
Your own misfortune, your own destruction,
Slowly deteriorating any sense of fruition.
I know you want to give up on these ghosts,
But they are yours to catch with a gilded net,
So let them go, if you choose, but remember
You’ll have to live with regret that you never pursued
Beyond the bars that immobilize you, like roots.
You were meant to travel and traverse,
The universe will push you towards your path.
Do not listen to those who jeer and laugh.
You know your purpose. Listen, it’s there.
What your inner voice guides is your truth to bear.

I am thankful for the trespassers.
for those who dared breach my walls
gently but firmly, who passed through
my locked doorways carrying candles,
determined to do no harm, determined
to raise me from the dead.

I will not carry
any unnecessary weight,
because the world is heavy enough.

I will not compare myself to others,
and feel guilty about my shortcomings
because each experience is unique.

I will not let failure consume me
with guilt, but I will carry the anxiety
because I do want to be better.

I will no longer torture myself
because I feel I'm supposed too.

I will allow myself to experience forgiveness from myself.

She’s trying to fly with
crippled wings and join
her dreams together with
guitar strings and when
she sings she sings her
songs of how she tries
to get along with the long
harsh road she’s been
wandering on as she tries
to fly with crippled wings
and join her dreams together
with guitar strings

-
by Aleksander Mielnikow

i stop things from being said

the weather is rather warm

it’s been said enough

like that ed sheeran song

i don’t want to be so repetitive

i’m in love with your body

how it gets so revolutionary

It pants, tugs, strains, yearns
Wrestles with its collar
Tags clink and chime
Songs of persistence

The cliff looms over like a monolith,
Radiating a ghastly aura.

I can’t bring myself to cut ties
Even if I know that their eyes
Hold a different light than before.

There’s no way I can leave now.

The monolith stands above
And I need to find the top.

Paradise is just over this precipice,
So why can I no longer see it?