Tag Archives: Life

self-love

Live in this world to give, then there isn’t much left to hurt you
Live in this world for sacrifice, your expectations will be met.
Live in this world for patience, there’s no room for regret.
Live in this world to serve, your feet will never touch the ground

and perhaps you will find self-love

through perseverance

Crying in words

Why cant I stop this overwhelming feeling of heartbreak and rigidity?  My emotions have become immobile- unable to shift and change. Instead, it’s off the charts in angst and frozen in the tundra of a once blooming spring.  Dreams and whimsy, all flushed into a sinkhole of reality. A blackhole of burden, pressure, and a repeating pattern of hopes time-warped into non-existence. 

 

This is why I hate being tickled with the happy ideas of life’s average milestones. Because average is exactly what I’m not. Average is aristocracy among all those around me dwelling in posh politics and wealth. I’m living in my own world, within the world of my immediate community, within the world of my city, within a grim world of war, poverty, and distrust.  Of course the overall world has it’s little honeycomb pockets of honey with honest-working people buzzing in their lives for the greater good.  

 

But coming back to me, my purpose, and my stability, I’ve no choice but to rest my case of happiness into studying, labor, and discipline. I’m a soldier in my own war, and there is no giving in.  

 

So here I am, chiseling my goals out of the glaciers of my gloom.

Growing Up

When did I grow up so fast

Because I still feel the same chills

As I did when I was a child

Who stood around the corner

Far from the other kids

Just like now

I stand around relentlessly

Infinitely unsure

On whether to step into the game

Or flake out

Only difference between now

And me as a child

Is that I don’t cry as often

And I wish I could.

A mess of truths (experience)

I said Goodbye to a closed door

belonging to an empty room

and walked away

with its mess in my head,

and my hands empty-handed, yet

trailing behind me

a massive shadow of guilt,

for yet again,

I wasted my time

for taking the burden and swiping out the room

but this time, I will dare say

that the mess in my head-

I will make sure to clear it away

and chisel the hidden crystal truths

into perfectly chiseled realities

for me to adorn myself with, as necklaces

bangles, and rings.

this is the collection of luxury

I earn through the misery

of leaving an unsolved mystery

of an empty room

with all its content

stolen and stuffed into my little head.

Is Past to Blame?

Tell me, how am I supposed to feel

When all I get are crazy things to hear

my childhood was full of fights and nights of tears

I grew up shy with no words to ever say

I’ve never had no friends and today it’s still the same.

And now I’m always afraid of what move to make.

I feel like I’m stuck- I’ve lost from the beginning

Maybe it’s fate, or maybe I’m sinning.

I was never free, despite what it appears to be

But I’ve held onto faith and smile for hope.

I know I’m alone, but from above there’s a rope

for me to climb up, and let all else go-

ignore what’s happening, and keep writing

my list of wishes,

like how I wish someone would do the dishes-

I still struggle to live as life should be

But maybe one day, I’ll live as me

With a tough past, but free of grief.

and maybe I’ll finally write

when I’m not sad, but happy.

 

Run Away to Heaven

Run away to heaven

leave everything behind

even the things that made you happy,

because it will all weigh you down.

Run away to heaven.

The trek is only so long.

So be patient as you sprint

and take deep breathes

as you sprint along.

 

But I’m running to my grave.

I don’t know at which age I’ll reach it.

It worries me that I’ll make mistakes,

even as I divorce the world.

If I’m running to my grave,

which is in all directions,

whichever I face, does it make a difference-

whatever decision I make?

There’s a story behind those eyes.

There’s a story behind those eyes.

The sun sets differently,

and the moon shines in the other

Secret gardens blooming in each alcove

with underground troves of words and memories

too deep to rediscover.

Be generous, oh eyes,

cry and cleanse the treasure beneath them

the treachery witnessed has flooded your ponds

wrecking havoc and drowning your gardens.

Weep away the dirt you forgot to sweep away

before they fossilize and erode the wisdom

you’ve been polishing over the

silent, exhausting, and broken years.

Beneath those eyes there lies a hero

fighting the mirage of a ghostly, ghastly, phantom devil

always watching and peering through

at all the scenes you see and do

collecting all the reasons for you to falter

digging ditches and setting traps for you to fall for

These are your nightmares, mirages that don’t exist

But the hero within, is real and persists

waging a war, a single warrior waving a flag

and waiting for your order

as You are the commander

and the phantom awaits your surrender

But the hero- the warrior, remains ever standing

for the call to finish your battle

every night.

ready to gift you

your due victory

and rewrite the pages

of your story.