On Solitude, Bravery, and Fear

I’m in the chasms of my solitude,
Finding peace myself,
With myself,
For myself.

But the chasms had grown deeper,
Hollowed wider,

And I am afraid that I’m sinking deeper,
Descending farther,

Oh yes, I am terrified,
By my own courage,
That I might think I can make it
On my own,
For my own.

I am terrified,
That in knowing so,
Doing so,
I’ll never go out,
Never let anyone in.

I am terrified,
That in doing so,
I’ll find contentment
On the idyllic tides inside my mind,
That I’d cut the cords
Of those who try to get it
And take me out.

That I’d snuff the fire
Of those who bring candles
To give me light.

For the first time in my life,
I am afraid
Of my own bravery.
Such contradiction exists,
More dangerous so,
That I find it hard to resist.


Don’t Call Me A Hero

Don’t call me a hero,
For I can’t even save myself.
Just another faceless stranger,
A little too naive and optimistic.

Don’t call me a hero,
For I can’t even defend myself.
Just another disembodied voice,
A little too caring, idealistic.

Don’t call me a hero,
For I can’t even find myself,
Just another speck of dust,
A little too hopeful and trusting.

Don’t call me a hero,
For I am not one.
Just another passerby,
A little too hurt, yet blissful.


A single heartbeat
From the heart, shot up through the arms,
Straight to the palm.
A sensation
Of falling,
Of losing grip,
Of losing,
Of no control.

Falling. Drowning.
On words of faceless strangers.
To drown out my thoughts.
To forget what they brought.
To forget the need to feel.
To forget the need.
To forget to feel.

The hysteria of the senseless.
The screams, tears, and laughter.
The empty words, light as dust.
Embrace my mind
Away from thoughts
Away from feeling
Away from living.
Keep it masked
From the truth that is a lie,
From a lie you want as truth.

The empty.
The void.
It has never been so endearing,
So inviting, so comforting.
It has never called to me
So much that I had banished
Traces of this world
While I am in it.


The mistake I had
Was to follow my heart.
To believe this naive voice inside
To trust, to believe, to have faith.
To hope, to choose, to say yes.
To love, be left, to wait, to welcome you back again.

The mistake I had.
Was to believe in you
More than the signs I see,
Because I hoped that we could be,
Because I wanted to,
Because I hoped, too.

The mistake I had
Was to let go of fear,
To trust you more than I fear myself,
Without seeing you
Slowly letting go of me.

The mistake I had
Was to think
That I’ll ever have a break
Like everyone else does
Like what I think everyone deserves,
And perhaps yes, everyone but me.

The mistake I had
Was to think
Maybe someday
Something will work out for me,
And this cycle would end,
That of heartbreak and poetry.

Week 1

Everything is not enough.
Not the eyes and a million shows,
Not the ears and a thousand songs.
Not the feet and a hundred steps.
Not if everything,
Each and everytime I do anything,
At the back of my mind is you.

Not even the shows I watch to dull the mind.
Not even the food and drinks to keep me occupied.
Not even pushing the thoughts away.
Not even saying, “I’m okay.”
Not even the fact
That at the back of your mind
Isn’t me.