Despite our muddy backgrounds,  
we congregated all the pureness and
reached out for the sun.
Promised that we’d stay untouched
from impurity.

Then nightfall alongside torment came.
You closed down,
submerged back into the mud we bloomed out.
And I heard you lament, submerged,
“I will live through this until it takes my life.”

Alone, I remained in the gloom.
The darkness of isolation crept up,
with muck jerking at my roots.
Within above, I told the moon,
“I’ll open for you another night.”

Inside myself, I suffocated
remembering who I was.
From the dirt we came,
grime that nurtured us,
the smite that we blossomed from.

Yet you shoved yourself back in,
took the filth as your selfhood.
Kept shut to the moon, believing
you are a facade
since no one knew your roots.

If anyone was ****, it was me.
The roots of yours could be ripped out.
Reflected in the sunshine,
still you’d be observed as clean.
I’d die a martyr for that belief.

The sun rises as you remerge,
the stains you’ve collected fall off.
You are left pure, intact,
despite it all.
You are my lotus.

A protector,
a brother once but now it’s me.
He wanted not
to have to care for the boy.
Because of his own hidden hurt.
His own disconnect
from his little boy.

The hurting part wants Dad.
Is heartbroken.
Afraid for himself,
of himself,
and all alone.
Just wants
to be held.
Wants to feel safe.
Loved through the pain.
Seen.
Acknowledged.
Recognized.

Forgive me, I tried,
to fight the demons inside,
but I have to admit,
to it I did submit,
it becomes an addiction,
forcing me into submission,

Forgive me, I need,
to learn how to plead,
for it to leave me alone,
after all that it's shown,
I don't want to live like this,
but it's something I know I'll miss,

Forgive me, for I can't explain,
why I self inflict such pain,
or why I can't put down the blade,
and disappear in the shade,
but it's my way to cope,
at times when I've lost all hope,

Forgive me, I can't,
ignore the voices that chant,
telling me that I'm weak,
and other nastiness they speak,
demanding that I cut,
and forever be in this rut,

Forgive me, but they win,
I can't fight all this pain from within,
I need to feel the blood run,
the devil thinks it's fun,
that my final string has snapped,
and in this cycle I'm forever trapped

Deep in the darkest corners of the mind,
through the corridors you will find,
the thoughts slowly skulking along,
and everything just feels so wrong,

the tricks it plays,
putting the host in a haze,
reality or not, who can tell
encompassed in an unpenetrable shell,

it blocks out the guiding light,
burying it far out of sight,
in the dark is when it does the most,
turning into your own personal ghost,

filling the brain with endless ideation,
begging you to bring it into fruition,
but if you work hard then you just might,
eradicate that suicidal parasite

the rain will stop someday,
although there might be floods,
that subsequent collateral damage
that lives in all of us.
and all that we've survived
persists in deserts, running dry;
some water could be what we need
to bring them back to life.
it's hard to turn the page
just as it's hard to start anew,
and every time someone says "no"
we still hear "not for you".
but when the currents change
their flow will wash away the pain.
although there might be floods,
the rain must surely stop someday.

Forsaken Kingdom
Lord of the Silver Ashes
Minding His New Herd

It's been a month since I've cut my hair short
And in another month, I'll cut it again,
and the next month, another inch,
and more inch, and more inch...
As it tries to grow longer, I'll stop it there.
I'll chop it, if it tries to go past my shoulder.
And by December, I'll have a hair and body you have never touched, ever.
And by January, I'll be a brand new person
yet someone you'll never forget forever.