The walls speak to her.
They are so ugly and bare. And thats how she feels, ugly and bare.
She have no wounds to show, only wounds to tell.
And they become more and more of tales to tell,
surrounded by undistorted walls.
How does she not know these are not hers and they belong to someone else's?
How does she not know she was created and injected memories?
That sick little girl is no longer her,
and she is not and never was that sick little girl.

but eventually, all the metaphors fall apart
and come to nothing
like paper dissolving in water
fanciful words dissolving with it
and without romanticized phrases
and rose-tinted writings
there is only unembellished truth

in silence I stand
unadorned, but,
awakened in a
demure frame of
mind

thoughts color
my cheeks, hues
paint my soul;
as I stand alone
unembellished

purity trickles
upon reddened
cheeks; chastity
leaves me clothed
and untainted as I
smile upon life

sensuality of me
blossoms in tinted
arrays; as sunlight
bounces off the
prism of mind
yet, still unpainted
upon life's canvas

tentatively, I blink
eying my reflection
in the mirror; devoid
of a painted mask
cocooning my essence
as I evolve into
a white butterfly

finding myself
unpainted in familiar
surroundings; barefaced
but, acknowledging
true colors; strength,
faith, decorum, self-esteem,
respect and confidence
unpainted like my canvas;
but, evident in all that I do

hung upon the wall of
an internal gallery;
posing in full glory
poised royally, in an
unpainted portrait
portraying me
elegantly

My days crawl in a vapid succession
My eyes fixated upon the inscrutable way
In which pastel days fade into pallid nights
Languid sunrise dwindles into dreary sunsets
As I wander in between listlessly
Gathering it's dusty remnants
And threading them together
In unembellished phrases
Hackneyed to death
As the first weary ray of dawn
Ruffles through my hair
I yawn, sigh
and repeat again

The sky is austere
No glinting embroidery
Guess she became all jaded
Wearing that pearl-beaded shawl
A sight he took for granted.

The real question I am asking here
up and over the stillness of cold water, I cry out into this vast world
Will your amiability bid you dance with a skeleton?

or throw her into the *** of the sea
given she trust herself enough to divulge herself in meeting thee

and from the waters you hoisted my unembellished identity with your feeble hands

I have shown you my true self as hard and ridgid
as coarse as sand
wont you display, your darkest primordial wishes
or does it manifest as all that I see you for now?

with insights into mortality will you spare just a tear
in sight of your own morality
for your wounds

it will kindle in me a thirst I've not yet quenched
even as the rolling ocean was wrenched from inside me

perhaps I'm offered this gift, I may very well present a gift for you
You lacked the experience to meet me fully through...

The whistle sounded, the train chugged
The journey began as many unplugged
Fates were rested on solid tracks
Scraps of iron responsible for their backs

Compartmentalised boxes carried varying stories
Some call it a divide, others settle for categories
Some boxes resplendent with ornaments and gilding
Others modest with unembellished finishings

Whatever the setting, the views didn't discriminate
One only had to look out if one had to rejuvenate
The landscapes never spoke, but the passengers listened
As if nature's lyrics were intently written

Each swayed by the drama of their lives
On a journey assumed with predestined stops
No one saw an impending halt
On unfinished tracks and an unexpected drop

If unspoken words were to be exchanged,
What would they have been
If unasked questions were to be answered,
Would they have freed one from within

I remember being on the red thin line
Becoming & epitomizing Destitute
Blessed it too that I found myself wanting
to break from the clenches that bound any exemption, and sought after a new means of
Achieving ultimate ecstasy in a world purged of natural euphoria and anything besides the contemptuous judgment that is almost granted and given at the onset of life in a place that taxes one from the unembellished pleasures a life should often always experience

I don't know where I am anymore,
Your arms are wrapped around me
I can feel you softly snore;
Breath quiet, warm, and slow
Dancing on my forehead.
This is all that I have left,
These disgusting, precious moments
That I'll never forget.

You transport me to this place
Whenever we're alone.
You rip me out of our space
When I'm thinking-
With eyes closed;
And you're sleeping,
In this bed of time-machinery.
Ripping me through threads,
Forcing me to relive
When we were alright.
When everything seemed bright
But I was lost in the shadows,
Projected by your lies.

And sickly, I smile
As my brain travels miles
To reach destinations,
I haven't been to in a while.

Like that lonesome beach
Where I surrendered myself.
Giving you all that I had,
In our moment on the sand.
I thought you'd never reach
For my unembellished shell,
But you held me in your hand,
Taking all that you could grasp.

Or those tender, treasured seconds
Where you'd cradle my heart in heaven.
Rocking it in your cloudy arms,
While delicate fingers traced coarse scars.

I'm reminded of happier times,
That felt like dancing in sunshine.
Now we keep behind black clouds
To never come back out.

So please,
Just stay there sleeping.
You're happier in your dreams,
That will never include me.

Your soul I never could appease.

I'll lie here with my mind
As it retells these
Fantastical stories,
Of a make believe boy
Who found something beautiful
In something boring.

-SLuR

I have been warned
Not to make my mouth
A funeral for the truth

But how dull
        the unembellished life
A birth          A death
And time's pranks between
What is left when the lies
        are struck?
Lethal mediocrity

I grew a little white daisy
In between my palms
Simple and solitary
But they gave it a glance
And decided it was too bland

I grew a little white daisy
In between my palms
Delicate and humble
But they looked dismissive
And very much offended

I grew a little white daisy
In between my palms
Unembellished and exquisite
But they thought it needed
Mending and perfecting

I grew a little white daisy
In between my palms
They asked me where
The bright splendid colours were
And why it did not have
Any sweet fragrance at all

I grew a little white daisy
In between my palms
They wanted to see
Only the famous crimson red rose
But I thought my daisy
Was beautiful the way it was