Friday, February 27, 2015

Free Write #1 [Confusion]

This is a free write.
No rhyming.
No beats.
No spitting bars.
No nothing.
Because I'm writing how I'm feeling.
And I cannot stop to process what I'm writing.
Or what I'm doing.
Or what I'm feeling.
Or to just sit here and think of potential synonyms to the words I'm looking for.
Because I'm overcome by emotion.
And I want to get them down before I lose them.
And I want to pent them up in this post before I forget what it felt like to feel like this.
To be honest, what do I feel?
What are feelings?
Why are they so complicated?
And why am I not sure about how I feel?
Why is there a a color grey?
Why can't things just be clear,
Black or white?
My worries
They keep coming back every time I get rid of them.

Are you going to come back to me?
Do I want you to come back to me?
Are you going to leave me?
Leave me helpless?
Like how many others did before you?
Are you going to abandon me?
Abandon me on the side of the road while you travel on?
Like how many others did before you?
Are you sick of me?
Sick of how I'm so insecure and annoying?
Like how many others thought of before you?

But do I want to let you go?
To get far away from me and forget about me?
Like I did with so many others before you?
Do I want you to move on?
Move onto someone who will make you happy?
Like I wanted with so many others before you?
Am I being selfish?
Or am I being the bigger person?
Will I regret it if I let you go?
Or will I regret it even more if I let you stay?
Will you hate me for being selfish?
Or will you hate me even more for trying to push you away?

I found someone that could potentially replace the hole you left in me
But I'm not sure if he ever will.
I'm not sure if he could even begin to mend what broke inside of me.

I never talked to him like I did with you.
I never laughed with him like I did with you.
I never missed him like I do with you.

And although I'm sure that I already made the decision to let you go,
But my heart doesn't want to.
Because it wants to be selfish.
Just once.
Just this once.
But it can't.
And it won't.
And I believe in fate.
And I believe that if I weren't meant to let you go, you'll come back.
And I believe I'll find happiness someday.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not any day that I'm thinking of you.
But some day.
Because I believe that I deserve it.
And you deserve happiness too.
Which is why I let you go.

Paris's Fall

Her smile is the epitome of all that I live for.
Bright like the sun, hard to ignore.
Her eyes reflect mine; her gaze so ruthless
Like she can see what I'm thinking, as though I'm translucent.
Her movements so graceful, so nimble, so perfect.
However she moves makes my heart skip a beat quick.
Dear Aphrodite, this love trap, I fell in
the well that wishes for the beauty named Helen.

But alas since she came here, she cause nothing but trouble.
And the death of my citizens have nothing but doubled.
These past ten years have been the worst for my city.
All of this bloodshed for a woman so pretty.
After killing Achilles, I too, have been slain.
And in my last dying moments, I just wanted to say,
Out of victory, out of power, I chose romance.
(Guess why the city of love is Paris, France.)*
If I had never fallen for Helen's seduction,
I would have never single-handedly led Troy to destruction.

*not historically accurate, but I found it ironically funny

Thursday, February 26, 2015

Dancing with Melancholy

She's ill.
A hole in her heart that she cannot
fill.
As all the pills whisper, "Take me.
You'll feel more normal."
As all the people say, "Try to be happy.
Make your depression more subtle."
"If only it were that easy,"
She thought of as a rebuttal.

She goes to the therapist more than she goes
home.
When asked about her feelings, her mind turns to
stone.
"I feel trapped," she thinks.
"This horrible monster has held me captive.
Sometimes I think I've escaped, but in fact, it
keeps me trapped in.
I'm isolated.
Privacy invaded.
It goes through my memories,
and makes its presence stated.
This war - I'm losing.
This monster it-
It's controlling what I'm doing."
But as always,
Only two words squeeze through her lips,
"I'm fine."

In her room.
Experiment time.
How many pills can make her truly happy?
How much time will pass before she's finally free?

She looks down as her soul climbs up.
Depression, the monster,
was only there to haunt her.
Its cages were mere shadows.
Itself, a silhouette.
With a tempo of allegro,
She did a pirouette
But dropped to her knees,
So quick - so abrupt.
Out of all directions to escape,
She chose to give her life up.

Summer is Freedom

The perfect day for summer
is relaxing endless hours
spent playing outside
with the smell of fresh grass and flowers.
Running around barefoot
and reclining on the grass.
Days where time forever stops-
but nothing ever lasts.
Cloud-watching, sun shining,
getting sprayed by sprinklers.
Ice-cream eating, sunglass-wearing,
rebellious free-thinkers.
The time of freedom and beautiful days
and relaxation.
Summer is finally here,
the start of our free vacation.

Rose

My acting is so professional.
No one can even tell.
The deep dark secret of the rose
is that its petals already fell.
Its beauty, its smile
brings happiness all around.
But deep inside its burning soul,
it starts to die without a sound.
As people always, always judge
my smile that is worn,
They never seem to ever remember
that every rose has its thorn.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

Blue Faith

Periwinkle skies
And navy blue nights
She surmises - visualizes
What her future would be like
Blue like the blanket that buries her baby
Celeste like the secret she hid from her family
Light like the loneliness she was so used to
Dark like the incident that happened too soon
Steel like her scared sixteen-year old self
Teal like her tears and her declining health
Cyan like the feeling of coming clean
That her kid's the cutest
thing she'd ever seen.
Azure like the assistance and acceptance fam offered
Like the alleviation - an avalanche was lifted off her shoulders.
At such a young age
A victim of rape
Too silenced to say
Too scared for her fate
Blue does not stand for dysphoria or solitude or heartache
But rather for hope and strength and most of all, faith.

Who I Am

I'm an artist in the abstract sense
An amateur in present tense
I say present because just like a necromancer
I wait around for the future to give me an answer.
But I realized I got dreams, focus, and drive
And you gotta work hella hard to keep up with my hype
Cause by all the coffee by my side
Caused by all the times I was up all night
Caused by all the work I was assigned
Caused by all the times my eyes were wide
With passion
With dreams
Like nothing you have ever seen.
Like NAK says about this self-conscious monster
To hell with it, for I am definitely God's artwork.
What I see in the mirror
It doesn't reflect me
But instead the bright sun
Reflects my true qualities
I'm an artist in the abstract sense
An aficionado in perfect tense
I say perfect because just like a graceful dancer
I twirl circles around the future
Demanding for an answer.

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

My Very Best Friend

Her phone buzzes nonstop
like a busy busy bee
Her face looking bothered
Even though she's with me.

Constantly bullied.
Constantly teased.
A victim falling forth
To this terrible disease.

All these snapchats, dm's, LOLs, emails
make her feel less like a female -
more like a small detail.

All this backtalk, smack talk, backstabbing deadlock
Poisons her like hemlock,
Puts her in a gridlock.

All this skinny fit, tight fit, name-calling bull-
Pause.
See - had to stop myself 'cause she really hates profanity.
Every curse word directed to her
drives her closer and closer
and closer
to insanity.

But it's all in her mind, she's soooooo perfect.
She doesn't realize that to herself she's being too strict.
Her beauty is buried so deep she can't see it.
Too many punishments, just not enough credit.

And I wanted to be there for her
Every step of the way.
Every thing that they say
Was irrelevant
Unintelligent.
Haters gonna keep hating,
Saying things for the hell of it.
Important starts with "I",
Don't worry, keep spelling it.
Told her over and over
and over again.
I was there to support her,
My very best friend.

But the locked door,
The bathtub
The whole floor filled with soap suds.
The funeral
The coffin
The whole room filled with sobbing.

As the tears secreted,
The mean tweets tweeted
and the dm's and pm's were all deleted.
Her haters were silent now.
Almost as silent as she is.
I guess the only way to stop bullying
Is for a life to be dismissed.