I'm in a constant reverie,
Morosely contemplating the glistening, vivid, sky
that contrasts with the remnants of earth and vibrant, coloured, flowers.

I turn my gaze to the sea,
not far-off, that seems to splash and crash
in sync with the swaying leaves.

I imagine if the body of water was a physical being,
it would be more powerful than I.
Every muscle, every cell, feels weak within me.
Although, if I had to pick between the sea and the sky,
I would have to choose the sky.

I'd Feel the wind forcibly blowing my face as I
fly with no responsibilities ahead of me.
I could finally be free from every thought,
every 'checkpoint' individuals expect me to achieve.

Since it's not possible, I decide to at least feel the thrill
instead, by jumping off this obscure building,
where mother nature is fighting to take over.

But as my feet leave the ground,
I realize—no fall will truly free me
Maybe freedom is found in the sky within,
where thought and wind can finally cease.

the flowers died on monday
the clouds cried on tuesday
the sky screamed on wednesday
the sun dimmed on thursday
the stars hid on friday
mother nature weeped on saturday
the earth spun on on sunday

What is a life,
with no fail?
It is a ship
That cannot sail

What is a life,
with no pain?
It is a life
That has no gain

What is a life,
with no risk?
It is a body
That's frail and weak

What is a life,
where no one's ill?
It is a life
You cannot feel

I thought I could bear it,
with un-penetrated walls and flying my flag.
That the thought of your smile could hold my strength,
and fortify my castle.

Those downcast eyes and upturned mouth,
couldn't that give me just a little comfort,
a little more strength?

But those were wishful thoughts
of too good intentions.
Now here I lay toppled,
buried beneath my own stone walls.

Can you not see these,
not feel these bleeding sunset wounds?
Exposed and seething behind the brave face,
that urge every fiber within me to react;
to cross the line drawn in the sand between us.
Cast off my restraints
and pour myself out to you.

Would that soothe the aching that consumes me
and return you from that stranger's lips?
Or have time and words stretched thin,
hanging our bridges on feeble threads
waiting to cut ties beneath my steps?

I’ll tell you the truth,
Your world will break.
All you had thought you had known in your wake
Will fall apart,
And in the end
Your broken heart will fall.

I’ll tell you a lie,
Your fate holds true.
Everything which you had thought you had knew
Will lose its stride,
You cannot hide
From the cacophony of calls

From the end
Of the Judgement Hall.

“don’t make yourself
small for anyone,”
You say to me.
i say nothing but i
think to myself,
“i used to be larger than life,
i used to be big as the house,
the stars,
i used to reach for the sky
but then
You told me to be quiet.”
“don’t let them push you around,”
You say—
but You told me not to fight.
don’t question, don’t argue
don’t cry, til i choke
on the tears that i swallow
down, down, down.
You tell me to be strong
but where do You think
i learned how to make myself weak?
i went and i made myself weak
for You.

is that not how i’m supposed to be?

is it crazy how weak i feel falling in love?
it is stronger to start to cling onto an unfamiliar season
and wade through its frozen river.
it is stronger to let a fragment of yourself stray into the bog,
approach a stranger with olive branch eyes
reaching out for a piece of your soul
you weren’t sure even existed.
is it crazy how weakness is all i think of love?
a mistake, a mishap, something to do-over.
i need stronger arms, stronger limbs.
i was so much more as a child,
playing with love in my hands; bending it whichever way i deemed fit.
there is possibility in adamant denial:
a curse for a lover disguised as apathetic.
i am stronger in love than it seems,
only weakness is simple to grab onto
allowing the tiredness to creep onto my eyelids
and the force of sleep beckons me.
loving is giving up,
loving is sinking into quicksand in shallow waters.
love is strength masquerading as weakness,
a pale creature moving in the bog.
how come i am so scared of love when that is all i am made up of?
every little embrace, every small favor, every tiny chuckle,
every good cry, every rekindling, every intermingled life in mine.
i am strong for believing in something as fragile as love,
that could crumble in my hands at any moment,
yet gently still holding it so that it may remain.