Art of Living
E C C E D E N T E S I A S T (n.) someone who fakes a smile, when all they want to do is cry, disappear and/or die
closing the door, shutting the blinds, i’m safe. this is my caim, my sanctuary, my everything. with a tug, my mask fades away. i collapse onto the floor, heaving as i wipe away my smile. looking into the mirror, a pair of defeated eyes is all i see, my broken self taunting me. a tapestry of scars, a sight for sore eyes. they bring about pain. a everlasting reminder of the heartless souls, devoid of emotions, who sole existence is to murder and reap. they prey on innocent souls, transforming them into empty carcass. gone are the very essence of a human being, replaced by a blackened soul, damage beyond repair. they dont mean it, it’s their obligation, their duty. i consoled myself as i hide the pain. for staying silent is all i know, for i have mastered the art of hiding since birth.
happiness where are you
H A B R O M A N I A (n.) delusions of happiness
i’m losing control. of the perfect mirage. a fissured mirror is all that is left. reaching out to the mirror as if possessed, i see a distorted version of myself with tendrils of black exuding out as it sucks away the last of my warmth. staring into my eyes dull and lifeless, i stumbled. the voices in my head increase tenfold shut up, shut up, please, shut up. rivulet of tears began to cascade down like an endless waterfall. i’m drowning in my own ocean of tears. the world fades along with the voices, i finally felt at peace. closing my eyes, my will to fight the losing battle ceased as l let the tide take me, embracing the depth of the ocean as i sink towards the weedy disarray at the bottom, leaving behind the traces of my present. i have sadly mastered the art of drowning.
i yearn for a savior
A L A T E (adj.) having wings
i need to learn to let go, to conquer, for it will restore my will to live. facing the reincarnation of the devil, who resides in the dark crevice of my mind, i stand my ground unperturbed by his snarls and sharp claws. i charge towards it, i’m not afraid. he slashes and punches. i do not cower, i fight back. the demon weakens and with one last jab, he lets out an ear-piercing screech as he faded into the unknown. the fog lifted as my soul reconnected with my body. a pair of determined eyes greet me in the mirror. i smiled. my body has become a work of art, tracing over the scars that decorates my body, it dawned on me that they do not symbolize pain. scars are beautiful, they are what makes me human. they are an indication of my will. no longer restrained, i fly high, above the clouds, with a new found sense of freedom.
i hope for a better tomorrow
