I'm blooming.
This path, I've chosen it myself;
And though your footsteps are still fresh in my garden,
And I still see your siluette in the moonlight,
I shall not let the memories define me.

The grass once stomped, will recover.
Your shadows are slowly fading.
No more will I let your darkness grow in my heart.

I'm letting go, and I'm blooming.
The breeze relaxes me instead of sending shivers down my body,
Instead of reminding me of your cold winds, orbiting my neck.
Slowly pressuring it in the darkness.

Until the red sun rises, and the sounds of the darkness and solitude quiet down. Until the cherry blossom wakes up again. Until my rotten flowers die and they get replaced by new ones.

Until then, I'll be waiting.

I'll be waiting,

Until I bloom.

Every time, once in a while
I would think to myself,
oh how I wish I had never been born

yet then I'd find myself
thinking of the Labrinyth movie,
where Sarah had made
the same wish towards her baby brother,
and there followed a night
of when the Goblin King
took her brother away

and it was quite a journey
to bring the babe back,
from traps, thick stone walls, and timeless sunsets
within the maze
to the shimmering dance of the illusion
with the Goblin King himself
who seemed to make the world fall down
around Sarah's shoulders

if you could describe
the mingling of dazed wonderment
and the dizzying fear of consequences from
wrong choices made in the split second
it takes to wish
you were never born,

it would feel something like
wandering through a labyrinth, where nothing is normal
and everything eludes sense,
thriving on the split moments
of ignorance, anger, and sadness
that result from the world
and everyday deeds,
and the character of the person you are

no matter how tempting
or dazzling
the world full of shimmering illusions may be,
it is in the end, still
another bottomless dark hole
to spiral down into

I guess that's why
when things take a turn for the rough
in life
and I turn to wish that I had
never been born,
I always find myself
thinking of the Goblin King coming to
****** me away
to lead me into the world of
luring, beautifully twisted illusions
that drain the soul out of you when you've
had enough.

Your hands
are a cage
that tame
a restless
heart

his
unseen
hands
unlock bars
and unleash
a wild thing

I am a
bird in
flight
now

set free

the skies
are mine
to taste

the oceans
mine to
drink

I am man -
less

and blossoming

without
constraints
of love

Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art

they told me to pour my heart into everything i do
so that's what i did
i poured and poured and poured,
now they ask me why i'm so empty
when i was just doing what i was told.