What if I don't want the
smudges off the shields?
Why should I seek what
races away from me?
Not all struggles are
worth the sweats.
Can I choose myself and
forget about how ironed
my shirt should be?
How laced my shoes are.
Can I embrace the empty feelings
of frustration? Build a pack alone,
set the sky on fire, sink in those rough
edges so it obstructs the reflection
because my view reminds me that
I'm not enough. Spent years
searching for lights, yet I stay darkened.
I looked back and everything changed, life afresh at its peak.
Can I choose to burn my wings
and accept my fate, a failure?
Maybe lie on the beach
sculpting fishes in my head.
Lit candles, twirl around
hoping it manifests.
Because in the end what
use are the strives?
The world remains numb,
my stress and worth, palliatives.
But then, what is purpose
without thorns?
What is pain without tears?
Mourn without death?
Maybe I can grow if I wither.
I should treat my losses
and bleeds like paints.
Wear a mask until I'm healed.
Stand on my ground,
clean the surface so I see
my mistakes, maybe a glow.
Categories:
palliatives, art, cheer up, creation,
Form: Free verse
as if the body destroyed
endure the decline you try to mend
when entering and exiting appointment
and pharmacies and bandages
and palliatives and medicines
and therapies and hopes
and absurd bets
after the unsynchronized years
the age and the intercurrence of the discomforts
as they say putting velvet over the thorns
silently waiting for something wonderful to emerge
from the left end of the brightest star
or else already giving up
sure it finally comes from the distant valley
a warm and fragrant wave
sedation like a fog
cozy and comfortable
that embraces all spoils
of the tortured organic machine
the skin tattooed in the pain of bad days
and drive friendly
in conformity with an almost joy
to the security of nevermore
Categories:
palliatives, angst,
Form: Free verse