Tag Archives: Fear

An Ending with a Broken Rhyme

My home is the ocean. The waves and the collapsing

of the bubbles without certain figures. Of nothing

but ever-changing, amidst the stillness of the vast emptiness

underneath the surface of these waters. The darkness

echoing below, surviving in itself as a form of necessity

to build and rebuild, to invade and succumb to the sanity

of searing shackles of my mind. After each cloud that fills

the sky leaving me transparent to the passing boats, still

unnoticed, provoked and left undiscovered, unknown and feared.

Refined and understood to be a place of calm yet closed and stirred,

sacrificing the depths to unbroken promises

placed under the dark of hidden spaces.

People are right only in one thing in this life

that monsters lurk in the veil of the unseen, inside

were the secret keepers of the truth leaving a stain of pain

to anyone who dares to catch a glimpse in the flame

hidden under this deep trench,

and fail to reach every feeling,

forever weeping

and the seas are

made up

of my


A Detour to the Beginning

Every night he sees himself die. An endless false awakening. A series of tragedies of how in every possible way he could see how his life would end. The nightmares are always so vivid, it all felt as if it were all real. Yet, how sure he was? He’s not quite sure anymore.

His reality is now twisted into several different mindblowing forms of his imagination. The world is a different place, crafted by his own mind. Everything is not what it seems. Everything has been replaced by something else entirely. Something has taken hold of his thoughts and it is all nothing but a game he constantly plays. No, reality is not conforming with the world itself. He his bending the world to his own reality.

Every day, he wakes up in a different place. A place he was never been before. His memories fail to take hold for he cannot recognize the place he grew up with people one may call a family. Yet, they’re all strangers to him.

Always reaching for a door, looking for a place to escape, to hide, to seek freedom from something that isn’t after him. A futile goal that would lead him nowhere but back to his madness. Fleeing from himself for all eternity.

Run. It’s all that he could do, but not all what he’s capable of. Sure another day would last with his fear chasing him. He will survive a day. He will always survive. Because he is never tired, as well as his other self who wears the mask of fear. The latter won’t go for the kill. He cannot for he exist to be vanquished and he knows that. That’s why he’s after his other half so that he can peacefully rest but the path they are taking is not for the courageous.

Our hero is nothing but a coward who prolongs his suffering. Drenched in sweat, he would still find every hole he could see and stick his whole body in it even if it crushes his bones and there he will slumber and dream.

He’ll die. Wake up and continue running from himself.

The Sculptor

Isn’t this what you had hoped for?

Another starling gaze for me to break.

Your hero is washed away with sadness

Trembling to speak

With fire that you cast before his eyes

He is shivering to his knees.

Isn’t this what you want me to be?

Another tale of serene longing for a treasure so priceless

Of diamond eyes screaming in pain

Wretched, lifeless and lives under hidden mercy

So to speak, a figure of porcelain

Cold as ice breathing in flames.

Isn’t this what you want me to see?

You wear my heart on your sleeve

Collecting dust that you don’t even bother to clean

So I open this body from inside and out

Realizing a part of me is missing.

You took what’s not yours and I don’t even know that it’s there.

I guess this is what you would like to see.

Happily tearing myself apart

Like I am nothing but skin and bones

With my blood and soul crashing to your eyes

Screeching in panic for your attention

Even dying by your side for my resolution.

And by trying so painfully, I destroyed myself.

Falling to the piercing walls of a cliff

My skin is nothing but blood turned cold

And my mind is that of a gargoyle stone

With nothing to think but its maker

Trapped to a place so high and bathing in rain as his tears.