Let Out

The world doesn't have to hear what I have to say, but I'll say it, hoping someone, somewhere might stumble here and maybe find a piece of themselves.


We tried to doge it,
Both of us.
You know we did.
Move past it so subtly,
Pretend it wasn’t there.
Until it became a game,
Of pushing and pulling,
Of breaking and being broken.
And fixing and mending,
Ourselves and each other,
Over and over.
Until we couldn’t,
Not anymore.

But looking at it head-on,
How is it any easier?
Was it ever supposed to be?
And when did we decide,
To ditch the games?
When did we realize,
There’s no point to them?
And if we did,
Why do we instinctively,
Every once in a while,
Go back to them?



Run, he said to her,
Run for your life.
But what about you? she asked,
You don’t deserve such a fate.
How will you face the Queen,
And the doom that awaits?
He answered, it’s going to be tough,
But in my mind, I plan a bluff.
Run, for it might be a while,
Before I see you again, White.

A tiniest speck, the thinnest strand,
Was all the hope,
She could ever hope,
To hold on to.

She gave his hand,
One last squeeze.
Hoping that time,
Will pass in a breeze.

And so she supposedly ran,
Away fom her fate.
Through the forest,
Falling for the Queen’s bait.
The days spent running,

Had Snow fragile and frail.
The Queen stood tall,
At the end of the trail.
Beside her was a man,
None other than her huntsman.
The silence was broken,
Making way for despair.
A heinous laugh,
Now filled the air.

She’d been held captive before,
But never like this.
The Queen had had her before,
But couldn’t prison her soul.
Hope was all that had let her survive before,
And with that gone,
The Queen had her now,
For evermore.


In Conversation

I can’t face the sky today,
Much less, look him in the eye.
The last time we met, I said to him,
I’m too afraid to fly.

He promised to let me be the sun,
Not forever, but perhaps just this once.
He swore to hold me steady,
To not let go until I was ready.

And me?
Oh, what did I do?
I didn’t even have the courage,
To tell him the truth.

That I was scared,
Not of falling.
But of seeing the world through his eyes,
And never wanting mine again.
Of breathing too freely up there,
And gasping for air when I came down.
The dirt underneath my feet,
Better not let go of the ground.

Made Of Stone

Maybe I turned to stone,
So cold you’d freeze,
With just a gaze.

So hard I’d take,
Every blow,
And not even wince.

So sharp I’d cut through,
All your layers,
And hit the right spot.

So heavy I’ll crush to dust,
Every bone in your body,
With nothing but my weight.

But you don’t like this,
Do you?
This wall of stone,
This new me.
But then again,
Why would you?

Don’t you think,
You should though?
For I wouldn’t be here,
If it weren’t for you.


But I Did

When you said I couldn’t,
And I didn’t.
That was the day that I died,
Just a little bit inside.

When you said you wouldn’t,
But you did.
And no matter how hard I tried to fight,
I couldn’t make myself believe otherwise.

You never kept a leash on your words,
But I did.
Maybe that’s what broke me inside,
I could never take it in stride.

You promised you wouldn’t,
But you lied.
And every single one,
It made me realize

How much I wanted out,
And I also didn’t.
I was never sure,
Not until I tried.


The silhouettes of leafless trees stand against a splatter of orange on the horizon. Blackened by human hate, cold-heartedness and coveting, these trees still stand their ground. For now, at least.

This is the kind of black that’s beautiful to the eye, but you’ll know there’s death inside.

The sun, with a heart as heavy as mine, tries to paint them again.forest_silhouette_3_by_darkbeforedawn23-d97mc51


There’s a war up there in the sky today; a beautiful bloodshed. I see streaks of orange red, here and there, across the canvas of the sky. The silvery-gray clouds, trying their best to mask the sun, can’t help but reflect an orangey glow.┬áThe sun may look like it’s losing the war, but its blood seeps through the clouds.┬áLess than half a moon, strives for the darkness to stay. But even when I don’t see the sun, I can see everything else, as clear as the day.
I see the sun now; a perfect circle, all red from having fought this long. The sky, it’s a glorious golden, and the moon, nowhere to be seen.

Looking for Validation

Deep cuts, the creases were,
Deeper than the skin she wore.
Engraved like the markings,
Of a story that must remain untold.

All the brightness of the day,
Had shown darkness the way.
Looking for validation,
For someone to say,
That her baneful existence
Could be something more.
That her shadows would disappear,
And that they were sure.

Questioning eyes,
But not curious enough.
Maybe knowing the answers,
Would only hurt more.

She sighed, and stood,
Weak in the legs,
But perhaps not in the heart,
Not so much, not anymore.

Stealing Happiness.

“Can a person steal happiness? Or is it just another infernal, infernal human trick?” – The Book Theif.

I’m not sure where I intend to go with this, what the point or objective of it is. So consider this something like the random train of thoughts you get while staring at a blank wall. When your thoughts go from place to place, without direction, jump from one thing to another.

There is no such thing as lasting happiness. Or happiness like the perfection we imagine it to be. A time when you wish for nothing more and hope for nothing else. But it doesn’t work that way, does it?

We tend to associate happiness with the past or the future, only rarely the present. Does happiness only become happiness when we look back at it, or look forward to it? Maybe it’s just because we’re built that way, always looking for more.

And more often than not, we tend to associate our happiness with others. I’m not going to deny that seeing a loved one happy isn’t one of the greatest pleasures, but to rely on someone to make YOU happy, that’s different. And that is where the problem is. We spend our lives finding the perfectly fitting pieces to our jigsaw puzzle. What we don’t realize is that the puzzle was pieced together perfectly in the first place. And all the new pieces that you look for can only add to what you already have. You share your happiness with others, add to their puzzles and let them supplement yours. But you don’t rely on them to fill the spaces and voids, because they’ll never fit in the spaces that must be filled by you.

And how do you get happiness? You steal it. Try to hold on to it like grains of sand slipping through the gaps between your fingers, only not with the feeling of helplessness but with gratitude that it was your fingers they touched. Happiness is just fleeting moments that pass you by in a whim. And all you can really do, is hope and try to cherish them in the short while that they last.


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