(Moving on)

Oh, here we go again,
The voices in my head,
Masquerading as a friend, behind a veil of vain,
My mood shifts to absolute dread.

The idea of a fresh start,
Breaking free from the facade,
The rise of my overthinking part,
Oh, how everything starts to break apart.

(A fresh start)

The sun is bright, warm and the time moves slow,
Insecurities buried deep in coffins made of yew,
In hopes I’d make it to the afterglow,
I made it to you.

(Holding it together)

The black sheep of the lot,
The story is now written, what’s the point of it all,
Water boiling in the ***,
All of my buried fears, scalding as they fall.

(Breaking point)

As I shift from the anti-hero to the villain,
I watch as my castles crumble down from a mile,
Nothing left to gain,
Tears streak down my plastic smile.

(The confrontation)

My fears hollow me out,
Every fibre of my being, rejecting the new day ,
The silence as I shout,
Have I gone astray?

(The Afterglow)

I’m the problem it’s me,
Figuring myself out and fixing the self-inflicted scars,
Am I free?
What is in my stars?

Forgive me Peter,
tensions blare like flames of a heater.
You said, that the time’s ill,
But it came off as your free will.

Unbeknownst, we were put to withstand the test of time,
Did you really give up on us in our prime?
What once was as bejewelled as a cosmic star,
Is now drowning in the wine at the bar.

The story of us,
preserved in cedar closets
Accessed by the one left behind,
a tortured marionette.

Denial disguised as hope,
the thought of when you return.
But now you’re 25 and farewell’s all I wrote,
A void engulfs my radiant glow,
I watch my fantasy wither, then burn.

Acceptance is moving on,
But pain strikes deep, as the new day is born.
It’s time I realise,
The shelf life of those fantasies have expired,
My life - a tragic satire.

The queen reigns in her crimson glory,
A life she lives, an endless allegory.
She shows her cards, though her heart is pained,
The queen of hearts, the name now stained.

The joker’s act, turns The Queen’s frown,
He sees her hand, let the crown slip down.
He played his cards, to make her smile,
But, for she is lost stuck in exile.

Tale as old as time,
When women love, it is considered a crime.
This is not an ordinary tale,
Where the queen hides beneath her veil.

She rises from her sorrow’s shade
To love, to live not to fade.
Pleased by the Joker’s play,
She invites him in, as dinner is laid.

In her mind,an invisible string,
Bound The King and The Queen, in an infinite ring.
Yet, fate had woven as different scene-
It was The Joker and The Queen

Screaming so loud,
Yet no one hears a sound.
Drowning in sorrow’s I feel tied,
Was everything I wanted just a lie?

Sculpting myself in the dark,
Fighting not to fall apart.
But when I was drowning, I learned to breathe,
Is wanting happiness a dream or just greed?

I’m the problem, Known to all,
Is finally time for my imaginary empire to fall.

Bejeweled, the peacock in her feathery glory,
Enchants each passerby to tell her story.
Her way with words, allures them all,
She gleams with pride; she stands tall.

A woodpecker, wears its crimson crown,
Its artistry turns down a frown.
Builds his home, upon a log,
Persists through rain or fog.

Peacock teaches the woodpecker its wicked game,
Gives the woodpecker a taste of fame.
Woodpecker works day and night,
Threatens the peacock, gives her a fright.

The woodpecker, praised for his newfound grace,
Notices the peacock, disdain on her face.
He asks her softly  , the cause of her dismay,
Her voice cold and dead, begins to say.

“Your craft is weak, yet you think it’s great?
You still have time, it’s not to late.
If I see it again, it'll drive me mad,
Oh, honey! Its the truth, aren’t they all bad?”

Woodpecker stunned, as she keeps saying more,
Feels his crown fall on the floor.
With care for his pride,
He ponders and delves into a stride.

He says-
“Insecurity buried deep—that’s fine.
But why must you extinguish your friends’ shine.”
Speaking less but saying more,
He flies off to a better shore.