I couldn't let him always have the last word
Watching as people died and killed in the name of his holy Lord
Who cares what happens to those humans?
But I couldn't let it go
I broke away from his pasture
Covered myself in ash
Was discarded out of the Holy Land
And became my own God
Being the black sheep casted away from Heaven
I learned what it truly was to be broken
Building myself up to put a stop to these
Commandments and scriptures set in stone
I overestimated the humans
They ran amuck with every power I lent
Turning my idea of love into lust,
Enjoyment into gluttony and greed,
Sloth, pride, envy
Everything I tried turned into another
Deadly sin
Now my name is said in destruction
Evil is a synonym to my existence
I guess I don't mind as long as things aren't mundane
Isn't this what I wanted?
Always a figure to blame,
These humans have taught me to not trust,
Have hope in anybody,
And how to go insane

I must be blessed,
Surrounded by benevolent spirits,
Guarded by angels,
Watched by my ancestors before me.
This life cannot have been the first time we’ve met.
Some never find,
What we have discovered in each other.
We are a four leaf clover,
A needle in a haystack,
A rare and precious taonga,
A treasured gift.
We are perfect,
Immaculate.
In you I find a comfort,
That sometimes wanders from myself,
You are my closest companion,
and I learn so much
From the way that you are.
We are sisters,
Blood is irrelevant.
We are weird sisters,
Queer witchy feminists,
Living by self-developed norms,
Rather than societal,
The value of which cannot be overestimated.
Together we cannot be held back.
We are perfect,
Immaculate.
I will float with you
In our next life also.

Some say He is soft,
Others say He is evil.
Some say He is not visible,
Others say He has forsaken us.
Some say He no longer cares,
And some even dare to say that He doesn’t exist.
Many people say things about my God;
The creator of everything and anything since the beginning of time,
The Almighty who was, and is, and is to come.
The truth is though,
That not many people know my God.
I do not even understand fully who He is,
And I can only hope that the words written below do not insult him,
But rather, are pleasing to His ear,
Because this is my understanding of my God;
The maker of the heavens and the earth…

My God is omniscient,
Omnipotent,
Omnipresent,
And omniparent.
My God should not be underestimated,
And cannot be overestimated,
Because for any man to comprehend the power of my God,
Is impossible.
My God humbles the prideful,
And my God deserves all praise.
My God is the same God that created;
The great white shark that reigns in the water,
The grizzly bear whose one swipe can **** a man,
The tiger that haunts the jungles,
And the lion whose roar sends fear through mans bones…
And then said, “It is good.”
My God owns the thunder that shakes your house,
And my God shows the lightning where to strike.
My God can move mountains,
Divide a sea,
And wipe out the earth with a flood.
My God builds up ferocious volcanoes,
And my God carved out the mystifying caverns in the earth.
My God points out the path of raging rivers,
And my God delights in the crashing waves of the Bering Sea,
And finds joy in the force of Niagara Falls.
My God is the light so bright that,
You cannot look at Him without being blinded,
And the darkness trembles in fear at the mention of His name.
My God lodged the stone into Goliaths head.
My God sent Jael’s stake through Sisera’s skull.
My God transformed Moses’ staff into the snake,
Sent the locusts,
And promises fire.

Are you getting the idea yet?
But that’s only half of it,
Because my God has a whole other side.

My God wrote the premier poetry that is in the best selling book of all time,
That oh, by the way,
He wrote.
My God made the snow you sled on,
And the flowers you pick to put in a vase.
My God made the stars you lay out under,
And the planets and galaxies you can only dream about.
My God made the sunrise that is reason enough to wake up two hours early,
And the romantic sunsets you watch with your beloved.
My God painted the skies with the Northern Lights,
And breathed life into the wildflowers for extra decoration on the mountainsides.
My God carved out the Grand Canyon,
And my God sharpened the peak of Mount Everest.
My God put the tropical island paradises in the oceans,
And my God produced the crystal blue waters of Greece.
My God rendered the landscapes of Tuscany,
And my God created the vibrant birds of the jungles.
My God made the athletes you aspire to be like,
And the voices you listen to over the radio.
My God gave Shakespeare his imagination,
And Da Vinci the vision to paint the Mona Lisa.
My God made man and all his features,
And my God made a woman;
Who in all her luster and beauty is the pinnacle of my God’s creations.
My God brings a man and a woman together,
And puts in them a love like no other,
But still that extraordinary love doesn’t compare to His own love for us.
My God gives life to every pristine baby,
And then witnesses every moment of their lives.
My God made the water that quenches our thirst,
And my God fills the void in our heart.

There you have it:
My God is both ferocious and gentle,
Dangerous and loving,
Strong and merciful,
Powerful and overwhelming,
Mysterious and mystical,
Everlasting and present,
A guardian and a giver,
A warrior and a romantic,
A designer and an author.
My God is the lover of the rejected,
The judge of the high court,
The strength for the weak,
The defender of the defenseless,
The shepherd of the flock,
The general of the most opulent armies,
The savior of the broken,
And the redeemer of the lost.
My God will not leave,
But instead will always be by your side.
My God is devoted,
Dedicated,
Unwavering,
And unchanging.
My God is not threatened by your god,
And my God is supreme.
My God created the heavens and the earth,
And my God created you.
This is my God,
The God; Father, Son and Spirit.

YOU
overestimated the strength of this foundation
this home was made of paper -
3 years of hot glue and worn fingers,
finally we had a bedroom,
a living space

with fall came the rain
day and night, downpour
sign number one the flood was coming -
puddles appeared in the grass and i tried fixing it with my cupped hands
silently pleading that the neighbors look away while i was on my knees
you rushed around with a bucket of paint, the grass must be green
the grass must be green, your shirt must be tucked, i must crack a joke when your family shows
it was still raining and everyone else realized what was happening
my mother called, "please just leave. your skin is greying
get out of the rain."

You slept through the thunder,
a crack appeared here and there and the floorboards shook
Our arguments leaked through the cracks
And the screams dripped down the walls

during dinner it suddenly became all too much
the windows popped, one by one, starting in the basement
you thought if you locked the doors the water would stay out
if we stayed in the covers we would be dry
if i stayed naked we'd be fine
but i'm cold i'm cold and it's still raining

the windows kept popping and you ran to replace them
but water and glass overtook you
shards in your back, shards in your hands
please don't touch me don't grab me don't hold my face
rain water filling your lungs - pouring from your mouth
you screamed apologies and tried to hold me
don't kiss me i can't breathe please don't kiss me don't
the water was only up to your shoulders but you were drowning
just swim, you idiot, make an effort to stay afloat
i have this raft made of my skin
and yes there is a scar there and a burn to the left
but it can hold us

we climbed back into bed instead,
completely submerged
you held me tightly as i welcomed the rain into my lungs
and with the glass in your hands slowly slicing my skin
I apologized
And felt the roof land on my spine

I sit in a prison of my own making,
Neither a friendly place,
Nor one of misery.
It is not black and white,
But rather every shade
Of gray.

It is cold.
And it is dark.

I pull my threadbare blanket -
Worn with use and
Useless attempts to maintain
What once brought me joy
But now threatens to leave
At the blink of my heavy lids -
Around my trembling shoulders,
Wishing for
The warmth,
The heat,
The love,
That once surrounded me.

I gaze with empty eyes,
That are far too tired
To produce the relief
That tears might bring,
At what was once a fire,
Tall,
Leaping,
Sparks flying,
And always,
Always beautiful.

Once containing every color
That heat could create -
The red of my blood
Which ran for you,
The orange of the sunsets
We once witnessed together,
The yellow of the sun
Who cast his rays upon us
As we drove around the city
With no particular destination
In mind,
But rather with the intent
To lose ourselves
In life and youth,
And in each other.
And at its brightest,
The blue of my eyes
Which you still admire,
Have always adored.
The violet of most of the shirts
You wear,
Shirts which I, too,
Wore at some point or another.
And white,
The color of the roses
Which only the other day
I told you were my favorite,
Besides the red.

A rainbow of heat,
Of memories,
Of what once fueled
An effortless union
Of two willing hearts,
Which I now fear are quite separate...

Pulling my blanket ever tighter,
Pointlessly,
I gaze wistfully at what is now,
At best,
A barely smoldering
Pile of delicate embers,
Soft, silky ashes,
Harboring tiny
Pockets of heat
Here and there,
Which stir ever so gently
If you blow on them
In just the right way,
But no longer produce
Enough heat
To calm the chill
That grows in me.

My hands -
Missing your fingers
Intertwined with mine,
As they once were -
Itch with the desire to
Stoke what remains
Of the blaze
That's passed.

But what would come of it?
I fear it.

I can no longer predict what
My words,
My actions,
My confessions,
My honesty,
Will stir in you.

You have become
All but a steady,
Indefinite time bomb,
A fuse lit with perhaps
The same fire
Which once united us,
Which does not
Burn at a steady pace
But only moves another inch
Every time
I make a mistake.

I fear setting you off,
Which I do so easily now,
Without intent,
And so unexpectedly,
But a greater fear
That rests in me
Is losing what we have,
This tiny flame
That still exists,
And which I nurture,
Terrified
That it will burn out forever.

This place I'm in...
I do not like it here.

It is cold.
And it is dark.

I have no way to leave,
It seems,
For this fire
I refuse to abandon
Also provided light,
Gave me some direction
Like an oil lamp,
Guiding me along
A twisted, narrow staircase,
Seemingly going up,
But treacherous
In its crumbling structure,
Uneven steps,
And startling trip-ups.

It gave me a way to see,
To feel out
Where I was going,
On an already-difficult path
Which I felt I could not
Navigate alone.

I was so grateful for
That flame,
A source of comfort
In a dark place.

But even then,
It is finite.
That of nature
And man
Always is,
Isn't it?

Somewhere along the line,
The smoke grew thinner,
The flame grew smaller,
The ashes grew denser,
And the temperature
Grew colder.

I was an unprepared traveler,
Only carrying the bare minimum,
This blanket which now rests uselessly
On my shoulders
And spine,
Curved with defeat.

I did not brace myself
For the gust of icy wind
Which would *****
A delicate but vital
Resource,
And knock me on my back,
Fragile spine and
Brittle ground
Colliding
In a predetermined battle.

I am not quite as seasoned
In these things
As I once thought,
As I still
Would like to think I am.

I should not have
Overestimated myself,
Just as I should not have
Underestimated you,
And my own
Irreparable foolishness
And silly
Romantic tendencies.

And while I sit
And ponder this,
I watch the tiny embers
Flicker,
Luring me in with a
Promise of
Revival,
Repair,
Resolution.
They are so small,
And seem to have
Lost their purpose,
Two feelings
I am quite acquainted with.

I have two choices here,
It seems.
Continue to nurture that
Which once
Brought me purpose,
Brought me healing,
Brought me life,
And hope that it returns -
Just as I hope you do -
To what it once was.

Or, I may abandon
What is smoldering
As your eyes once did
When you looked at me,
This pile of ashes,
A majority of which
Is comprised of
Scarring memories,
Painful stories,
Fear and apprehension,
All of which I tossed
With blind faith
And shocking optimism
Into the fire
We created together,
In hopes that our new start
Would also create
Our happy ending.

I am still unsure
Of what will come.

But for now,
I fasten my blanket,
And my own arms,
Around myself,
And wait out the winter.

We shall see
What spring will bring.

I unpacked your boxes too quickly.
I exposed the whiteness of your thighs
freckled by the reddish-brown hairs
I uncovered the wrinkles in your blue iris
the lies and tears behind your front teeth
evenly crooked

I wanted your words to flutter from your mind
but they dropped from your throat to the floor
I wanted your laughter in your core to be kind
but it came from a shallow, envious drawer

I pulled strands and veins out of boxes
Found bundles and tangles
that I assumed should be unraveled
but when I pulled and twisted one straight,
you left in your car with a crunch in the gravel
Drove straight into the arms of
Malbec wine
at low rise tables with one chair,
an excerpt from a novel bent at the spine
and the sweater you never let me wear

I drank from the pint glass you brought home for me
and it wasn't a statement.
I wore no mask.
I simply sipped.
It's only meaning to transport water to my lips
Calmly, coating my belly
So slowly I'd wait
Imagining water burning like *****
Barreling down my throat
like an interstate

I wanted it back
the feeling of feeling
the fear that walks with revealing
the love, the artist, and the lunatic
all cooked together and left to steep

I pulled out my own strands
the ones anchored deep.
I worked endlessly to straighten
You wrapped yourself in my veins
to tightly
You were trapped in the bundle
so you ran, then came a stumble
forgetting that I was anchored too
and so you pulled me right down with you.

And I left you there
with your tearful stare
I bunched up these strands
and laid out my demands
I carried them off, the tangled mess
You once announced was yours to hold
but you overestimated yourself
and watched me become cold
A block of ice, you could never melt
you were not all, you were not my wealth
you were only the weight I felt.

There is this moment in the morning, this short, sweet period of time where you haven’t yet woken up but aren’t really asleep. Where your memories have not come crashing down on you like a thunderstorm yet and you can fool yourself for a few seconds.
It is at this time where I forget that you no longer love me.
It is at this time where my heart feels safe.
It is at this time where in my mind I am still your sky and you are still my stars.
I want to live in that time.
I remember once, before everything got so messed up, I looked into your eyes and thought “****, you have never loved a hurricane before. I am going to break your heart.”
You broke mine.
I overestimated myself and underestimated you.
You are the hurricane, the Milky Way that is scattered across your pale silky skin shines brighter than I ever could.
And although I always refer to myself as fire I have forgotten what it feels like to be burnt to the ground.

Days flash past my shadow
Unable to distinguish your face.

Missing someone is overestimated
An individual can't be missed
But how you felt in his presence
Will subsist.

Love conquers as endless matter
Thus exposing your heart is key,
For a new world to perceive.

An unknown yet
familiar ardor rushes through my veins,
I thence forsee you're present but somehow
Gone away.

Humankind around neglected you
Trust is reasonably locked into your gut
Disowning is no option,
Neither patronizing you;
Been there myself.

Dark nights
Dark thoughts;
Disoriented your head,
But reincarneted who you are today.

Don't contemplate there is no better.
Stand high on your feet,
Drown yourself on memories
That once made you
Complete.

Perhaps I'll never be your future,
Perhaps my existence to you is nonsense.
Straightforwardly;
Merely knowing you're no longer lost,
Will be my cue for moving on.

to never know when I'm going to stop. each new girl topples out over the last, already midway into her own *******, her own catastrophe. to be out of control. to be constantly out of context. to live once or twice removed. to see kaleidoscopes in every drawn eyelid. to deal with the repercussions of the Other's actions. to only feel Whole with eyes closed & voice in hallelujahs. to hate being used, yet need it, crave it for the feeling of being wanted. to have sound hallucinations. to feel empty chronically. to feel emotions suddenly turn off. to rattle & shake under the lightest of pressures & thrive in chaos. to be distracted into dysfunction. to love. to love everyone except me(s). to mark my body with insults. to rack my mind with misgivings. to never be understood & to always be overestimated.

--

but to love. to always be humble. to always see others before self. to understand other's pain. to have so many bad memories, thus revel in every good one. to live in the emotional gutter then feel euphoric when crawling on level ground. to know that normal can never become extraordinary. to blow minds often, feel **** in my own skin. to be open to unexplored territory. to love often, powerfully, uncontrolled, chronic overflowed rivers, oceans of oscillating passions. to see kaleidoscopes in every drawn lid & know that others will never be mesmerized by the odd beauty i find ordinary. to close my eyes & raise my voice. hallelujah. hallelujah.

i’m tired of not loving you.
i’m tired of the dry
fluorescent lights
illuminating not everything
but almost everything
just enough to make me think
i see it all.
i’m tired of waiting
for the stones i sent skipping
across the water
to come back
i’m tired of sinking with them.
i’m tired of noticing
that snow during spring
is warmer than i am
i’m tired of complaining
and then being scared of
what you think
of my complaining.
i’m tired of stitching puzzle pieces
into patterns that don’t make sense
just so i can ask you about them
i’m tired of trying to hang paintings
on bare white walls and thinking
i’m the problem
when it doesn’t stick.
i’m tired of being overestimated
even when i know
what i’m doing
i’m tired of falling in love
just because you’re kind to me
i’m tired of not loving you
but i’m tired of not loving me more.

time heals all wounds and i
overestimated the process
as a straight progression
of burn to scar
but i don't feel stronger bruised, stuck
messy fleshy **** up
hurts to touch
trauma reopened and stitches split
some days gashes slashes rips
some days smooth skin
i want to get over it

I get scared that I don't do much, and I get scared when strangers yell at or touch me. I get scared of whizzing cars that go so fast that they'd turn me into pulp and broken bones under the weight of their axels because I'm afraid of broken bones and of falling. I'm scared of being a coward and of sullying or destroying my integrity.

I'm afraid of people--especially boys--and how and why they make me feel because it seems I either care too much or not enough, and I get scared of both. I get scared and mean when they say nice things to me since I'm not very nice to myself. I get the jitters when they talk to me and I get scared because I feel and act dumb.

I'm scared of being stupid and I'm scared of being overestimated. I'm scared of apathy, and I'm frightened by the willful ignorance that exists everywhere.

Most of all, I'm afraid of causing others unnecessary suffering.

I want to be better, I sincerely do. It is just all very frightening sometimes.

Understand
Why do you not understand
Who I am
How I feel
What I do?

Bridge
Crossing the river
The flowing river
The hasty river
The shallow river

You
You are on the other side
I need help to
Cross the river
Cross the bridge
Cross my heart

I reach you on the other side
I reach out to you
You run away
You disappear
You vanish

Why are you gone?
What did I do?
Do you understand I miss you?
I have underestimated you
You have overestimated me
You deserve better
I deserve no one

I crossed the bridge to get to you
And you left me alone
In the Woods of Life
To die.

I greet the night,
chasing after your profile left only in my revolving memories,
You said, “I can’t be there for you.” when you left me
but the tears embracing your cheeks couldn’t comfort me
Every time you felt like you’d be swallowed up in the waves of
contradiction and expectations, you always held back your tears, you know?
“What a strong,pure person”, they said, but everyone overestimated you
and before you knew it you lost sight of who you really are
Then the sun I thought would always be near me collapsed
and the light shut off
Rubbing out the truths and the lies of one day, altogether
I greet the morning
still, ironically, chasing after your shadow in my revolving dreams.

You.
you have betrayed me
and underestimated me
and overestimated me
and hurt me
and abused me
and took me for granted
and hated me
and laughed at me
and tempted me
and taunted me
and shut me out
and hidden me
and drowned me
and suffocated me
and wronged me.
What you don't know,
my idiot friend,
is that you are loved.
You are getting all that you deserve.
You receive what you put out.
If you want happiness,
therefore,
all you need to do is put it out
for everyone else to grab.
If you want love,
love everyone and everything.
If you want trust,
give it.
The more you give,
the more you receive.

I found the two-headed baby deer dying
on a bed of soft pine needles under cover of an overturned oak,
not five kilometres from my cottage,
Its lungs still pumped,
Its crimson heart beat weakly through a thin,
translucent skin,
that decayed before my eyes,
until there was no skin,
and all the organs lay warm and still,
in a heap upon the earth,
like waste.

A god evaporated.

It is human nature to disbelieve
that one may be witness to epochal events,
so I did not believe that I,
of all people,
should be witness to the death of time.

Epochal: the concept itself is dead.

How lucky we were
to know time at its cleanest,
and most linear!

We know now that such constant linearity
was the consequence of a living entity,
It followed the creature like stench follows a skunk,
and we basked in it
as if it was the natural state of the world.

No more.

Time no longer heals,
Things do not pass,
Or pass only to return.

At first we believed this would be manageable,
Yes, we thought, we will relive our pain but also our love,
Everything shall be magnified!
Welcome to an age of great emotions,
a new Romanticism!

Yet we overestimated how much we help,
failed to accept how much we hurt.

And we did not realize the nature of evil,
which accumulates in a way love does not,
To re-experience our love is to know it,
again and again,
at the same intensity,
but to re-experience pain is to increase its volume until it overpowers us,
deafening us to everything else.

I will never forget the creature's eyes,
full of hatred or hubris,
yet seeking aid it knew I could not give.

How does one save a dying god?

It was not my fault!

I was but a child asked suddenly to solve a deathbed equation
expressed in an undiscovered mathematics,
I had to fail,
yet in failing I have brought it all upon us.

I relive it constantly,
Every time its eyes are louder.

But it is the hour for my afternoon walk,
so I will take a pause and enjoy what remains of living.

I will go to my favourite spot overlooking the city,
and sit on the iron bench,
from where the view is magnificent,
Above me,
the clouds will form,
a tangle of pain and human corpses,
and I will sit and ponder until the first blood drops fall,
Then the screaming will begin,
the final storm will rage,
Beating, crimson corpse-clouds under a thin skin
of dissipating reality,
raining blood until we are left
warm and still upon the earth.

Bumble bees aren’t built to fly. But that doesn’t mean she won’t. It has been scientifically proven that the wing span of the average one is too small to hold up its body mass, but that doesn’t mean they don’t, I like to imagine that every time her little wings manage to miraculously pick herself off the ground just high enough to hover about the flowers, she smiles triumphantly because she is doing something that everyone has ever told her was completely impossible to do,
I like to think this because it’s how I feel whenever I open my mind to talk to you.
Whenever I do, my strong words come out in mumbles, they tumble forth like crashing waves and the saving grace that’s saving me is the fact that you’ve held on this long already.
When I lift my lips to caress your palms, lay them flat against my cheek so the heat keeps moving between us can catch me off guard. When you hold my hand and disband the negative thoughts clouding my better judgement. I like to think that the width of my hips has only ever been measured by milestone makers, that the bones in my spine are the rocks we will walk on, that the spaces between my fingers had only ever been held by placeholders, that the broken hearts that felt like boulders were never louder than your soft voice whispering how beautiful I am in my ear, just soft enough for my demons to hear, and whenever you draw me near I like to think that it’s more so because I’m another warm body than the idea that you could find solace in the shape of my thoughts.
There are insects living undetected in the un-dissected regions of the legions of my organs. Butterflies with razor blade wings and they sting the sides of my diaphragm spiders biting the inside of my cheeks turning them fusica, I can’t write this poem.
I thought I would be able to pen exactly what it is that I want to say to you when the light hits your eyes and turns their emerald light blue, I overestimated my vocabulary and it’s twisty turny ways, I thought I could think of all that I wanted to say but I can’t.
Not because I haven’t been trying, I’d be lying if I said that I don’t think of a new way to describe your beauty every day, a new metaphor there was no doubt a Greek word for, it’s true that every inch of my mind burns with curiosity when you’re close to me. It’s just that I can’t write this poem…
I can’t capture you with these hands, they’d shake and snap you, I can’t carry you with these arms they are too small and they’d break too. I can’t carve you out of marble and marvel at my masterpiece because honestly the piece of mastery is how and why out of all the women in the world you would have chosen me! I can’t write this poem. I can’t blame the color of my cheek on the spiders in my veins, I can’t conjugate a verb to make sure it’s not only heard but understood. To understand my feelings towards you I have to try and understand you.
I can’t write this poem, like bumble bees aren’t built to fly, I can’t form a structure around the constant beat of my heart when it palpitates whenever we’re apart.
I can kiss you.
I can’t write this poem and offer you the better parts of me. I cannot be the strong and lonely bumble bee. I can base my laughter on the crinkled corners of your eyes, I can surround my words around the good deeds you’ve done, I can become undone under your patient and practiced thumb. I cannot write this poem, but I can’t stay silent. I cannot simply shy from the way your eyes pierce my shield, I can muster up the strength to stretch out my tiny wings and sing, I cannot write this poem, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.

You are the sun in my eyes,
As I cross the road,
You make my life a gamble,
A toss of the coin I regret not giving to the beggar because of some ******* excuse I made up to ease the guilt,
Warm on my skin, you're fire to my cornea,
Nothing but a beautiful distraction,
But then, I don't look away...

You're my life in tatters,
The angry landlord I'm too broke to pay,
You're the food that is ash in my mouth and cement in my stomach,
You're not good for me, but I'd be worse without.

I tell people I don't have an addictive personality,
Without really understanding what that means,
I've never been dependant on drugs or alcohol,
A month ago I could say with pride that I'd never held a cigarette between my lips,
A month ago suddenly seems like a long time...

I don't rely on anything,
Another lie.
My addiction is my attraction,
My distraction,
As soon as the feeling blooms,
I condemn myself,
To nights in the dark,
To nights spent alone,
Wishing they weren't.
Do you think of me,
As much as I think of you?
Does anyone think of me in the same magnitude as I do them?
I doubt it.
I'm a thinker,
Who wishes he weren't,
I struggle with it,
With the power play that is my sanity,
I produce thoughts but I do not control them,
They control me,
Or they would if I gave them an inch.

My mind is a battlefield,
Strewn with corpses and bullet casings,
Trenches and craters,
I'm stuck in a war with myself,
I'm always on the losing side.
Losing...
I'm losing it,
Losing friends, losing respect,
Losing myself in my fears.

Who the **** do you think you are?
To smile at me like that,
You have such a beautiful smile...
Get out of my head!
There's too many of you in here already,
Fighting for space,
Fighting for the hell of it,
Peace is something I remember,
But I haven't felt it in awhile,
Anger is something I know,
Burning my throat,
Bringing forth gouts of flame,
In words meant to harm,
Meant to hurt,
I want you to hurt,
Like I hurt,
Like I burn,
A walking inferno,
Won't someone ***** me out?

When I was young,
A toddler,
I pressed my hand to the glass of the fireplace,
And I felt pain,
And I screamed,
And my parents were there in an instant,
And I was cared for.

When I was in my teens,
The war was in it's early days,
I pressed a lighter against my skin,
And I felt pain,
And I felt calm,
And I gasped,
And no one was there to tell me not to,
And no one cared.
And I did it again,
And once more.

They say scars tell stories,
And I guess that's true,
But no one wants to listen to mine,
And the ending is always the same,
I'm nothing but a cliché,
And I guess that makes you one too.

I'm sick of myself,
And I'm sick of you,
And I'm sick of worrying about you,
And I'm sick of worrying about others,
And I'm sick.

I'm alone,
In a crowd,
Don't you dare say you understand,
We think differently,
Feel differently,
You understand nothing of what I'm going through,
I wish you ******* did.

I'm there for you,
Safety netting should you fall,
Once the dangers passed,
And you don't need me,
I'm packed away and forgotten,
Until next you take to the tightrope.

I've been thinking of rope lately,
And dizzying heights,
And free fall,
Where's my safety netting?
If a tree falls in a forest,
And no one is around to hear it,
Does it make a sound?
If I jump off a cliff,
In the middle of nowhere,
And no one is around to hear it,
Will I make a sound,
When I hit the ground?

Would anyone care?
I doubt it.

I'm terrified of the prospect,
The idea,
The monster tapping on my window,
Gnarled bark or gnarled nails,
Carving into my skin,
You're stripping me bare,
I'm baring my teeth,
Wolves at the door,
You're knocking on my door like a Jehovah's Witness,
Like you have something to preach of,
Like I'll give you the time of day,
Which I will,
Every single day,
You find yourself knocking on my door.

A let down sick of being let down,
Sick of getting up,
I'll lie in the dirt,
In the reawakened realisation that I'm not worth the time
Until lies give me the strength,
Or false hope to climb to my feet again,
Just to be let down,
And ***** my back once more.

You are a golden ticket,
For a false lottery,
That I keep buying,
You are tails on a two-headed coin,
I bet on every time,
I bet you won't bail on me the next time,
We make plans to see each other,
If only you saw what this was doing to me.

Like a nail in downpour,
I corrode,
I rust,
Like the abandoned bicycle.
Like a match,
You strike me,
You set me burning,
And you throw me away.

I'm but a child's art project,
A roughly hewn mess of emotions and cheesy metaphors,
Barely held together by carelessly applied superglue,
By an overestimated excuse of willpower,
By a towering fear of falling apart
And not having a rug big enough to sweep myself under.

Through all these thoughts,
Fears and imaginings,
These facts,
These fractures,
I endure.
I always will.

Angels sing in celebration
while I lose my mind

Where are you, my love?

I can barely see through this raging storm
of snow and anxiety
My passion keeps me warm
while I search for you

Why did you do it?

I had everything you needed
Though it seems I overestimated
the dosage of love that you needed
You just weren’t ready

Come home
I’m terrified
I miss you

You couldn’t handle the world
and there’s no way you can now
Not with what I’ve done to you

You need me

born in a world that
has its back turned to you
and is paying attention to people
and things you see no worth in.
so you shake your *** and do
all sorts of things you can
so you can get his overestimated interest:
you crawl the wall
you moan and cry and whimper
you sing and dance
you write about your misery
you tell it how bad you feel
but it only takes a few swift glances at you
for you to realise that
it is needed way more to get its attention
than you are willing to give.
so you take a hike
light up a cigarette
and sit wherever you want to
allowing the world’s ****-stained eyes to
behold the unimportance you take for
others’ thoughts.

I genuinely believe
That God only puts us through
What we can handle
But then again
I also believe
That He has overestimated
My strength
Or mistaken me
For someone stronger

I infer they overestimated the ships foundation, eager to set sail
The world really puts a weight on people to go follow a certain path
Unfortunately, they were at mutiny since the day they departed
They had high hopes to flourish, but we all know you can't predict the seas, only the moon can

I'd say when I was born the ship had already been sinking, but it was long before they felt the water coming through the cracks
I've always kept my head so high in the clouds that my naive but determined hopes kept us a sail through every weather

When a sinking ship sails through rough shores for the sole purpose of getting you where you need to go, it creates some type of complex
Definitely a resentment of the rough seas that lacked the passive self-control you've grown to practice, but also a deep gratitude for the days no-one hopped on a life-boat and turned their back

I've seen more animosity than tranquility, but I've also seen that people spend decades drowning out of love
I've learned that maybe sometimes people could be better off calling quits on what is definitively irreparable, so much pain can be avoided
But I never falter my peace with regrets

It's hard to know when someone is on a sinking ship, because it grows to feel normal for them
When water sinks in, you move to higher ground
When people notice and you feel their pity it feels wrong,
You're okay, you've adapted and you're better for it

Born on a sinking ship, I'll still call it home
Like a true captain I'll stand with who and what I believe in till the bitter end, yet I'll always keep my head above the water
So thank you to the rough seas that raised me
It was nature's chaos that bred my inner serenity

"Run, run, run for your life"
Oh how greatly we deceive ourselves
As if this life is worth running for
As if this life is worth saving
Someone thought that once
He died for what he believed
But May I just say you overestimated
My worth far too much

I looked into myself one day,
like I never looked before,
and I realized that what I have inside: I don't want it anymore!

All these weaknesses, this is not who I want to be;
this is not even how other people see me....

I thought I was stronger, I thought I was smarter, I saw myself braver, better than I was, I overestimated myself, I guess I just need a pause.

The door to my soul is open, it just doesn't close, maybe all of this is from a sadness overdose.

What I have inside, I need to clean it out; tried to do it alone, but it just wouldn't let go; all the problems in me just keep saying no! We won't go!

Now, I still got my faults,
I still have my flaws,
but I also disappointed myself;
I couldn't keep my own laws...

Refrain, restrain,
all things are in vain. 

I thought I could do it,
but I had to learn the hard way,

only God can save me:
there is no other way;

you can improve yourself, sure,
you can get better, but there will be a time when you'll be caught off guard, later, when your not ready, or when your tired, who will hold you up then, someone you admired?

Anyone will criticize, anyone can point, but who will stop to help, who won't disappoint?

Only Jesus can help you, only He can set you free, 
from the struggles inside,
from all of which you flee,
and no matter what,
to Him you can always go,
if you need help,
you can always ask, and the truth will set you free,
free from your own mask,
and your lies,
you won't need them anymore, cause on wings of truth you'll soar,
and when you'll need to stand,
you can stand tall,
on a mountain of truth from which you can never fall. 

Now in Him I can improve, in Him I can grow,
because He forgave my sins, He made them go, no,
I don't have to worry, about my destiny, he gave me peace,
he made me worry-free.

I forgot it for a bit, forgot the way to the light, I forgot that He saved me long ago, saved me with His might.

There is nothing here for me, nothing more to see, so I'm on my way now, to become forever free.

For years I believed
I have sovereignty over me
That the power to choose whether or not someone could get inside me
Is solely on my hands

Perhaps my heart was wrong, after all.

For years I believed
The gates were made of steel
As strong as the power of heavens
That whoever tries to intrude
Cannot push through it

Perhaps my heart overestimated its power

For years I believed
That I could live without the flutters of the heart
Without the swirling and swarming of lights and deluge emotions
I believed I am on my own
That my hold on my guard has reached the strongest peak

*Perhaps my own heart has betrayed me.

I never tried to see through your eyes.
Sure, I projected myself into a mind I thought I could find,
but I never saw things the way you did.
In the aftermath it seemed clear, but the lenses of memory
focus and I know that try as I did,
Nothing ever made quite the same sense
I overestimated your emotional capacity
I underestimated your boredom
and I gave no thought to the synapses between
No; in looking back, I know most of all that
I never tried to see through your eyes.