Slip Away

Like these drops of water on the palm of my hands,
everyone is slipping away.
This wasn’t part of the plans,
much to my dismay.

The question is not “what happened?”,
but rather “why don’t they stay?”
Because now that it’s mentioned,
From me…I, too, would walk away.

I’m a tough wall with no ears,
I’m a soft ball with the tears.
And this further confirms my fears,
that I will be lonely in many years.

Maybe I am not good enough,
maybe I am undeserving.
Maybe I am rough,
maybe I am annoying.

If God is taking people away from me, maybe I never deserved them in the first place.
_____________________________
Maybe.

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Slip Away

Through the Cracks

Because for something that looks so beautiful
                 like those endless glassy smiles on your faces
                  maggots crawl through your cracks
and smells that are more raw than faeces.

______________________________
Never trust a smile on the first glance.

Through the Cracks

Mental Conversations

“Welcome to your first session. What has been bothering you lately?”

“Friends,”

“What about them?”

“I don’t know,”

“Do you have some?”

“Yes,”

“So why has it been bothering you?”

“Because I woke up after a long dream and realised that I know nothing,”

“Nothing?”

“What do I know? What do I not know?”

“And that has been bothering you?”

*shrugs* “I guess,”

“Have you talked it out?”

*shakes head* “I don’t know how,”

“How to…?”

“How to talk to them,”

“Well first, what would you like to know?”

“If our laughs were real,”

“Maybe they were real at that time,”

“I guess,”

“What else would you like to know?”

“Will we be able to laugh again in the future?”

“You will always be able to laugh with someone, anyone, even with another person, a better person,”

“I guess,”

“What is the last thing that you would like to know?”

“What do they speak of me when I’m not listening?”

____________________________________________
but the answer is only silence.

Mental Conversations

My Little Mademoiselle

Ma chérie,
my little mademoiselle.
Who flies like a fairy,
who leaps like a gazelle.

Soaring innocence, so pure.
boasting elegance, so mature.
Springing gently on your feet,
going up for the next suite.

Though now, she is a mademoiselle no more.
She is the majesty, the royal honour.

Forgive me, your honour, am I not worthy for your time?

You think that you are sitting on a gold throne,
but you are sitting on your tombstone.
Look at you, thinking that you’re surrounded by sandstones,
when those walls around you are made from bones.

You left your home for a castle,
but you are in a shambles.
In your world, you’re a royal highness,
but the real world knows you’re a royal mess.

You are the queen of your own world.

Oh honey, wake up and see.
You are no queen to me.
Hiding yourself in a castle for few,
no one really knows the real you.

Maybe that would be the best,
because the world will know you are truly messed.
Never an honest word,
do you think you will rule the world?

Let me rip that sweet veneer,
I know who you are, my dear.
Even if you say everyone is your family,
oh we know that’s a blasphemy.

You blame the world for its error,
when it’s clearly reflected in your mirror.

___________________________________________
Once you go there was never, never an honest word.

My Little Mademoiselle

What Is It

Clanking my spoon mindlessly as I wait for my tea to steep,
all the sounds seem to pass through my sensory.
My brain is tired but my body refuses to sleep,
feels like my body is relentlessly burning energy.

What is it that I’m doing here?

The fairy lights twinkle its spark,
but the glow lights up none.
My brain is screaming to let it do its work,
but there is nothing to be done.

What is it that I’m doing here?

I went around asking everyone how they are,
I listen and listen just so I can cover up this hole.
I patch up the other’s scars,
hoping it helps them be whole.

But then what is it again that I’m doing here…?
_____________________________
Because the more I patch their holes, the deeper my hole becomes.

What Is It

Eating Words

Not all words being spat out to you are venom.
They can only harm you if you perceive it so.

Sometimes the venom that you perceive and spit back out,
is also a venom for the person in front of you.

Sometimes you have to swallow your own words,
open your ears,
and start to listen. Properly.

Because right now you are doing nothing but eating your own words.

These words are not venom.
______________________________________
Just stop.

Eating Words