I locked myself in a tower
and waited for prince charming
just like the girls in the fairytales
though secretly I hoped
he would never come
what have I done here:
made mistakes I can’t undo,
now it all crumbles
pedestals were built for you
but you never stood there long
you chose the sturdy earth
and an ocean of unfamiliar faces
to make yourself at home
you embraced us as friends
dear to your guileless heart
close as family
more precious than gold
My sister is fourteen.
She laughs without reserve,
loves deeply and sincerely
and always tells you what’s on her mind.
She never apologises
for loving the things she loves,
even if people think her strange for it.
She has embraced herself wholeheartedly,
inhabited herself unapologetically.
I aspire to be like her.
The funny thing is, she doesn’t even know
that just by existing,
she’s made me a better person.
I was sitting in an open field picking flowers and writing down my plans for escape when the fog rolled in. I’d never seen anything like it. Black and thick as tar, it obscured every hill and home in sight. Just like that, the little village I’d grown up in and everything I’d known since I was a child, disappeared from view.
There was no way to call for help, no chance of navigating through the ever-growing ocean of darkness. I could barely move. My lungs were on fire as if I’d inhaled smoke. My body became as heavy and useless as a sack of flour.
As I lay there in despair, I wondered how long it would take for this pulsating creature of darkness to reach my home and engulf my family. Or would it reach them?
My mother used to read me a story about a little girl who dishonoured her family, chasing fanciful dreams and telling tall tales. One night, as the girl prepared to run away from home and join the traveling theatre she was surrounded by a thick and impenetrable darkness.
It stole her soul.
Perhaps those bedtime stories were true. I always knew someday I’d have to atone for my crimes. There is no room in this world for whimsical dreams and grand schemes. I should have listened to my mother and done the dishes and cleaned my room and married Mr Wood like I was told.
Ah well… I suppose it’s too late now. I’m being erased.
I lose sleep again.
New thoughts, new words
Spill out of me,
Play hide-and-seek in the air,
In the faint light of the moon.
Reason runs in circles, just out of reach
Angered by the lies I’ve told…
Temptation gently taps on my shoulder
Interrupting an illusion of innocence, saying:
“Once you open a can of worms
No one can close it for you”
[Inspiration comes from all sorts of places. Some sources are good and others are not as much. But writing about it the good and the bad keeps us alive.]
A familiar feeling settled in, a feeling that set off deafening sirens. She smiled to herself knowingly. This could only spell disaster. She even left a mental note of warning, knowing it would be buried with the rest of her sense because just then, their eyes met – collapsing all reason.