The Day I Knew It Will Never Be (First Poem I Wrote).

Memories.

WHOA what a throwback. I was digging around through the books I own, and out fell a piece of paper written on it the first poem I ever wrote. I remember I was maybe in the tenth grade, and it was about a girl, and let’s just say, things were quite messy. This poem made me realize that writing and expressing yourself, no matter the outcome, can be truly therapeutic. 

 

The day I knew it will never be,
Jasmine, I thought she would set me free.
My heart beating faster, waiting for a reply…
It was devastating, I vowed never again to try.

Overwhelmed with emotions I almost died,
never anticipating such a wry.
The girl you loved and dreamed about, day and night
never shared the same love for you,
what a surprise.

Tears filled up my eyes, my heart was broken,
every expectation turned out to be
a hallucination.
I was madly, insanely, deeply in love
and I linger…
But it will never be.

Knowing it will never be, I wait for the night,
hoping to see her in my dreams,
hoping it will turn into reality.
The night is a long way away,
and day dreams are stale, obsolete.
I dream…
But I knew it will never be.

Jasmine, I know you’ll be happy someday.
You’ll shine in the sky for your lover one day…
But why not shine for me, Jasmine?

Oh yeah I forgot.

It will never be.

 

 

Skulls and Bones.

Poor children.

Children laying down,
broken, exposed and frail beyond comprehension.

Shadows strike within the glass,
reflecting the reflections of the tiny,
fragile souls,
up towards the sky.

They lay,
defeated, consumed
lost in the mystery of deception,
haunted beings,
screaming with no perception
of what happens next.

Locked and bound
to their everlasting demise.
The only memory left of them,
the one reflected towards the heavens,
where heaven is nowhere to be reached.

Their hands tangled into one another,
with the footsteps getting closer,
they pray to the heavens.

They pray to the only thing that can save them,
yet the prey,
the prey devours them inside the house of heaven.
The Children shrieking their confessions,
shouting at the haunted curse,
that took their childhood away.

The curse approaches them,
noises made like the sound of skulls
rattling and signaling,
the voices of a null, beast-like,
and unforgiving savage.

The clock is ticking
and the Children pray,
as the prey gets closer.


 

Skulls and bones.

Everywhere.

Spring

I hate this time of year.

The spring is ending,
bending all in it’s way.
Summer on the horizon
with disappointment and regret,
with failure stacked up,
like an organized stack of hay
embedded within my being.

The sorrow, the sorrow,
nothing can be said about it.
It hits while you’re on your way,
towards nothing.

That’s the effect of springtime on me.
I’m going towards the unknown,
or better yet,
the unknown is chasing me.

Fuck you spring,
I sincerely mean that.

Circles

Round and round she goes.

I could hear the noise
coming from a near distance.

Frantic breathing,
sweat trickling down her forehead,
whirling and running
into a synchronous of perfection.

Hopes and fears,
and realizations of a life lost,
with nothing dear,
a hefty price and cost.

The screaming and the circles,
all what’s left now.

The only perfection she managed,
a soul abused and damaged,
was the spirals she forged as she wept,
the cries she shouted with neglect.

Darkness

You never know what tomorrow holds.

The darkness on your face,
shines brightly,
and slowly evolves and grows,
into a glimmer
stuck in space.

All the light
and I can’t quite see it.
It goes past me,
with all its radiant might.

Run away with me tomorrow,
and jump into the darkness,
all away from the brights,
may it bestow on us
all what awaits,
awaits us tomorrow.

Holy

Holy you say?

Burning holes everywhere,
taking a plunge into nowhere.

Despair and lust,
leaving me chewed and through,
like scattered dust.

Thinking of you right now,
collapse again,
as I glisten and shine in the sun.

The holes getting bigger and holy,
a shrine for souls forgotten and abused,
by your holiness.