Sometimes my unshed tears form an ocean
                Trapped inside my chest
Drowning with dry eyes
                 I slowly sunk
When breathing is navigating
The stormy seven seas
                Cry to clear the storm
                Weep to better breathe
If it helps
                Weep and weep

weep weep weep the whole world
cry the whole cycle of darkness and light
and the whole azure of heaven and all the azure
and all the books that were on the bookshelf
on the shelf that burned then in august
when attacking death on our house

scatter the same voices last fatal
be carried away and carried all around
do not give air to all this here
do not give the sky and do not give more papers
do not dictate any more of these strange words
perhaps the land is worth and it will be necessary to stop

and right now and at this very moment
and it is at this hour this month in this year
all stopped what it means stopped even then
then when august was next to me when the books were
when the whole world was not even in the flames at all
when the bookcase was with me and the leaves did not sob

11.09.18

Everytime I see a ballerina
It sparks a sense of yearning within me
Yearning for something that shall never be mine
Dance moves I shall never learn
And I'd feel my heart weep
As it recalls the child who once asked her mother to be a ballerina
And her mother said no
A 'no' that gave me a weeping heart, and a murdered dream.

O joyous world
for which I weep,
what splendid treats
you share with me.

For I've seen your
beauty in green mountain side,
or in soft blue skies as far as
my eyes reach.

I've been entranced by mirrored lakes
and natural silence.

I weep for the people
who will not see,
the elegance carved before me.

I weep for the world
encased in sin,
a concrete evil that shackles our will.

and you will fall to your knees

(as petals fall to the ground, so soft)

and it will part a way

(if buttery light could cleave so)

and if ever gods thundered
quaked wrath shook perturbe d

so shall you weep

like rain and a sigh of mist that followed.

In this hell we call earth, Eden is beyond grasp, manna is droughty, evident we in the tic toc furnace...the secret to hint of happiness is to make piece with your demons and be find comfort despite the heat

Look what I have turned into, I've been taught to make the right decisions but never have I been given the choices yet blammed for every figured move I take, the damage is beyond my pain threshold, nonetheless I grin just to smile and say am okay to the sarcastic phrase “how are you”