It does not have to be me

 I left my heart to die again. I met another face that looks at me with scorn and regret. This year should be the twentieth fragment of my life of which I have repeatedly wish to end. I sit on a chair of which my mother built for what seems to be for my sake. What once was a fear now turned into a begged wish, I beg my dear aunt up the clouds to take her with me. The eldest, a burden. I have encountered stories of which life was being decided on, some and among being that worthy of tears embedding the idea of I do have the right time cry.

I fell in love again, I was loved, only for an amount that satisfied them. It ended without me. I could keep begging, yet would only reflect the truth that I imply no significance, why listen, why think of what I may say. I am reminded once more that

"It does not have to be me"

It does not have to be me that their hand should hold till the last of their breath. It does not have to be me that will stain a smile. It does not have to be me to say words several can say better than I. It does not have to be me that should sit at the corner. It does not have to be me that tells you that you are special to me. It does not have to be me that looks at your eyes and offer you the world as a promise. You do not want it to be me that will live life alongside the remnants of pain and joy.

What did I do so wrong, to be so unwanted. The world gives me every reason that I am. I was not chosen to live, but compelled to be sustained by a belief. If so did that belief was never in mind, then my life would amount less than that of the sands slipping through what once was the fingers I would measure for what looks like to be my name. I would be seen more if I was blind, I would be heard more if I was mute, and I would be felt more if I was numb. I would be loved if I was less. Would I be loved now if I was any less than who I am or who I was?

It does not have to be me, to write those words that had your heart upon vasts. It did not need to be me, to show you a world better than what you have seen. It did not need to be me, to let you know you had every right to what you felt. I had begged to remain, as there would be no better place than to be your companion between us and the world. You seek for realistic ventures, when in fact we could create our version of realism. Maybe if I was lesser than a dog, I would be loved. Love need not be feared, but why does it hate me so much.

The World's Façade III

     The absolute sure will grow into an infinite doubt. Like a newborn assumed to be the epitome of innocence, shall change into the human an tangible form of angst and resent. You came into a cruel world with the expectations of an adopted mule and shall leave a heave of despise for everything was a façade, a series of charades with no answers to be found. I sit beneath a tree of unknown origin and ponder whether I have become what I oath to never become or that it is nature that I have? Visions filled with missions falls into deaf ears only even becoming words written in birches and oaks. The words of a familiar voice will be your anchor towards the gutsful winds of greed. We bleed to agree, and lie to gain glee. Rocks and minerals may be minimal, but their existence is vital. Like them are you, small compared to the big blue above. be a dove that soars the sky, do not be threatened with your power to fly. 

Words Walk

    The Brittle born whom are beaten and bitten, births the brave and bold for the bruised and burdened. As how the bereaved believed being bestowed a place in heaven, Havoc the hastened and hone the hurt to heat thy winter hearts. A heap of hope hovering our minds hinders a humane pride. Prejudice proposes a picturesque pasture whilst plummets the poisonous truth. Tell the traitors their sin. Sonder souls sing symphonies sold some centuries fold in each hum. Hunt heathens in hellish plains of which is the only place with no façade. Aid the ill in infinitive interest for it shall indulge you with vigorous stories. Stand upon sands of sad sailors sailing in sorrow an deceit. Deprive the demanding dozen of devoted dreams. As the divided holds in their voices.

Another Face of The World II

     Citrus, Dragonfruits, and butterflies colored a minimal urbanized alleys. Neither would you call it a forest nor the suburbs. Wheels paraded the soil as how an old toilet has become an ecosystem for a new life. Greens, limes, and helmets for pots paint a nostalgic home through the sun's rays. The babies and bees sings with the chickens and stray muts. A free breeze chains me into a mind fixated to unwind. Cobwebs shelters the gumamelas from grains of humane green. They feed on our joy as how we jest on their suffering. Troubling the roots towards the means to loose hope. At the verge of fading, staying is death, misery met. The lattice segregating the own and owned, slowly stoned by the hands of tome. Hear the birds and cicadas chime.

The Swallowed Truth III

     Life is a blank age ad yr consciousness is its ink. I paddle to the water of nihilism, the more that faces and voices came and go. The more days where the sun rises , increases your doubt of ones existence. The mind will think about itself as how you will think about others. Fool you are to believe you see the chaos the world is. You are being led into a lie that will rot you 'till your very last heave. For once in your life, watch lives come and go then you shall find the meaning of life in words that can never be limited to one or two words. Life is an infinite sentence its only end being the death. Allow yourself to break loose if it means tat it may be the only way you will find yourself, The world that you need is you , your mind is the word you must heed.

The World's Façade II

     A façade's tomb will curse you with despise, cries, and bruising lies. Some sees it as a price, prize, or an ultimate sacrifice. That will suffice into and upon the unruly world. We hurl at the idea of greatness so we coerce it into its ow grave. Lowered into a cave no light has touched, if so, you may as we leave a hush. That much can fill an abyss in your mind, unwind into seismic silhouettes, find yourself in torn cassettes. Placing bets on an uncanny ride while the tide rises up your pride, you will suddenly realize that everything and anything at once shall collide. With no guide, your eyes will shiver at the sight of truth ad all you think of is a casket and a suit. Like a brute the storm will serenade familial woes, and shows that emotions only grow once everything is lower. They shall hover over your corpse, by luck would they lend an escort as you live the world of a mute and leave the world you only know. Tows you lower and colors one by one left the corners of your sight. You are now enraptured by plight.

Laced Soul

     Deprived of attention drives a manic into destruction, until its wits wither like tulips under spring's touch. With a hunch, we manifest prophecies, growing into policies for the vulnerable to follow. Drowned in your gaze, is a sole soul sold to greed agreed by creed. Uproot the seed and it shall I bask in the sun. and it shall never be anything more. We broke the rule which we whispered in ears, thus severe our ties with its authoritative sheers. Cheers on the other field an be heard whilst our garden is descended with despair. We share a mind but divide by heart, for we are a art meant to be torn apart. The rapids and ripples l sing our names while we sulk in the silence as we are pinned by or own chains . You will grow to be hollow as I will run free, comes with the price that you will resent me. With glee, I look back to what was once ours, then look out into the vast I paddle with my oars. As I set course for a journey without you, the future I need will come into view. The new life where I will no longer bask in your hue.