I looked at old pictures Of you and of us Trying to muster an apology For not being "good enough" All that came out Were words of honest truth "I'm sorry that I was never Broken enough for you" For months I kept trying To go back and apologise Kept thinking I'd done wrong That … Continue reading The Path Not Taken
Muscles carve into my bones Like hot, bubbling gelatin Legs are filled with pebbles and stones Dragging calcified iron bars within Shoulders fall with under the weight of the world Dangling arms, weak and insecure I rest my head upon my pillow Looking down at my world below Books and boxes everywhere Memoirs of moments … Continue reading Exhaustion
Dear younger self, I am going to write this from the perspective of an older self that you have only recently come to understand. There was a time you thought you knew it all, m'dear, you thought you had it all figured out. Much of it owed to what those around you allowed you to … Continue reading Advice to My Younger Self
They say that I don't belong Say that I should retreat That I'm marching to the rhythm Of a lonesome defeat But the sound of your voice Puts the pain in reverse No surrender, no illusions And for better or worse When they turn down the lights I hear my battle symphony All the world … Continue reading In Light of Linkin’…Park
Do you remember, m'dear Back when you had everything to confront yet nothing to fear Everything to give and nothing to lose Everything decided and nothing to choose? Do you remember when you looked up at the buildings? The skyscrapers? Do you remember when you tried to do it alone? You dug and dug more … Continue reading Do You Remember?
(Creative writing: May 2009 - when it all began) Perhaps there was nothing wrong with her to begin with, and she was just as normal as everyone else. But maybe it was her honesty that landed her where she was now—a rut. All that she once represented, all that she once was, the person she … Continue reading Don’t Look Away
(Creative writing, REALLY old one from 2011. Darker writing, found it when I was going through old material.) --------- And as I lay dying, the sounds of the conspirators remind me of who I was supposed to become. It's never too late to be who you want to be, but watching the world pass by … Continue reading As I Lay Dying
"Where are you?" they ask, then don't stop to listen to the response. Well... I am capable of anger. Rage, too, mind you. It is not an anger that reacts to the ordinary, mundane trivialities of social construct, such as religion, race, gender, and class. No, it is a genuine anger, not a projection. It … Continue reading Where Am I Now, They Ask