Flight of the Wingless Avian

I saw a wingless avian take flight for the first time.
I saw her jump from the open window that sang to her sweet melodies of freedom.
I saw her pale feet touch the icy ledges of the 7th floor concrete building, before she crossed the line.
The line between flying and falling.
The line between living and dying.
The blurry line between giving up and dragging your feet, trying desperately to hold on.

I saw her featherless skin that was colored with white chalk and sprinkled with snow.
She glistened like a diamond on that rainy afternoon, but she was a fading flame, slowly losing its glow.
She gently looked up towards the grey and gloomy sky,
She whispered sweet nothings to it, as if it was her lover and I,
Was mesmerized by the beauty of her essence that unfolded right before my eye.
She was clearly broken and the scars and bruises were the cracks she tried to hide.
She was obviously troubled by the voices that filled her head.
The voices that kept tormenting her at night, while she laid down in bed.
Her eyes were broken windows to her shattered soul.
They were dull and lifeless, making her look like a product of a twisted fate that is oh so cruel.
She was gorgeous, but life had her looking like a ghoul
and yet, if she was indeed undead,
Then she was the most dazzling zombie character I’ve ever seen, or read.

Yes, she was messed up and nobody understood, but she was gorgeous to me
And if only I had tried to appoach her,
If only I had exchanged sounds like “Hi” or “How are you doing?” with her,
If only I had taken the time
To listen as she pours the limitless volume of grime
That has filled her Hydriai with mossy backwater,
Then there could’ve been a chance that maybe,
I could’ve broken her fall, catch her and prevented this tragedy.

But… I didn’t.
No, I most certainly didn’t.
I just watched her spread her arms, bend her knees and jump.
As I watched in slow motion I could hear my heart pump
And I could see her slash through the tiny droplets of rain.
I could see her gliding through the air, like a rain-soaked dove
And I could see her eyes were closed, content as if she had found her one true love,
And she was smiling. A smile that told me she has finally found peace from all the pain.
That’s it! That was exactly it!
She was flying her pain away.
All the hurt and misery that made her decide not to stay.
She eventually came into contact with the cold, wet and unforgiving pavement,
And now crimson was the color that filled the street’s waterdrains and asphalted cement.

I saw a wingless bird take flight for the first time
And I knew that what I saw will forever haunt my mind.
Her pale feet and featherless skin that has been colored with white chalk and sprinkled with snow,
Her eyes which were windows to her broken and shattered soul
And the mangled shell that once contained her ghost,
Were now swallowed by a wave of bystanders, pedestrians, cops and fools.
They gawk at the ghastly site and take pictures for their FB post,
While she slowly fades and drowns into the blackness of their shadows.

 What Happened To Me?

I wonder what happened to me, not to us.
We’ve fought a lot as we travelled inside this bitter-sweet bus.
We’ve experienced every emotion it has to offer us.
From feelings of anxiety and fuss,
To feelings of love and lust.

It has been a crazy ride
as we tumble and rise against the tide.
And even though times can get pretty rough,
I regret nothing and I do not regret our love.

But I do question some things from time to time.
Like what happened to me all this time?
Have I changed so much that I didn’t notice it?
I’m beginning to question the mirror and the person inside it.

I’ve been asking myself about what I truly feel.
Like how is it that I love you, but why does it seem unreal?
How is it that I love you, but I’m not crazy about you anymore?
How is it that I hate you, but at the same time someone I adore?

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not choosing other people over you.
Trust me when I say that my love for you is stronger than ten to the power of two.
And I haven’t fallen in love with someone else or anything of that sort.
And if someone else fell in love with me,
All they’d get is my “NO” and abrupt retort.

I love you so much even words can’t describe it.
But I’m not crazy in love the way you are to me.
I wouldn’t really fret about it even a bit,
But I found this “crazy in love” a problem you see.

If I’m going to be honest, I feel bad about myself.
Like how am I not crazy about you when you’re the person I love the most?
I’m like your symbiotic parasite and you are my host.
Yet why am I not head over heels for you and that’s why I am at a loss.

Loss for words on how to justify what I feel.
If I’m not crazy for you, then how can I prove that my love is real?
Maybe that’s why we still haven’t compromised after six long years.
Maybe that’s why we still bicker about the same things I tire to hear.

I hate myself for not being able to love you back like I should.
I wish I can be an expressive lover like you, I really wish I could.
That way, you’ll stop doubting my love and everything would be good.
But I am not like that and I loathe myself because I’m not doing what a “good lover” should.

But despite all of my shortcomings, you’re still here to stay.
You’re still with me and you always make it a point to call me everyday.
I know I should be happy, but I’m honestly not.
I feel like everything is welling up towards a sickening plot.

You have been a very good partner and you’re the best one I’ve had so far.
But I can’t help but think that you and I are not on par.

I don’t deserve someone like you, I don’t deserve the love you have to give.
An amazing, beautiful and loving person like you shouldn’t be trapped to live
In this shitty life and with a shitty guy like me.
That’s why every so often when I pray,
I ask God to take you away
And find you someone else who is worthy.
I pray to God that you’ll find someone better than me.

The Despondent Poet

I’ve come to write something again.
It’s basically about the things to remain.
Like a job and an income to be kept safe.
And how dreams and fantasies should be kept at bay.

For all the years that I have been alive,
To become a renowned poet is what I’ve always strived.
For my poems to be heard and to earn money for my deed.
To use the same money to help those in need.

I’ve always looked at my poems
As a way to help people and myself.
I think of my art as a sanctuary for the people and themselves.
It was my own way of saying “Hey, you’re not alone.”

Though I admit that some of my creation
Are merely a way for me to practice my passion,
Most of them are made from pure emotion.
An artistic form of self-expression.

Though I want to aim for the heights,
It seems that happenstance does not deem it right.
It seems that fate has another plan
Because it saw me unfit to be a poetically renowned man.

Looking at my situation here at home,
It seems I am fit to be a breadwinner all along.
It’s not the first time I’ve done this role.
I did well even though it left my heart with an empty hole.

Even though I dreaded waking up to work,
Even though I dragged myself to the office,
I’m always happy when I come home.
‘Cause I can see the smiles from my loved ones which is priceless.

Though I want to be a full-time poet,
It seems that God himself disapproves it.
‘Cause with all the years that I’ve been writing,
I still haven’t amounted to anything.

So with this, I give up my dreams.
My dreams of becoming known, along with my hopes.
I’m throwing them all to the flowing streams.
I still wish for people to go and grab their dreams.
I’ll be cheering on them from behind the ropes.

It may seem like the end, but it’s actually not.
I’ll continue to be a poet in a different spot.
My spot will be the darkness from which ambitions rot.

I Once Had A Dream

When you hear the word “dream”
What comes into your mind?
Is it an eternal flow of grandiose fantasy?
Is it a mountain of ice cream?
Is it an image of something or someone you’ve been longing to find?
Or is it about bending the very fabrics of reality?

When I hear the word “dream”
Something inside me screams!
It shouts about a life-long goal.
A life-long conviction I’ve been trying to reach.
But as reality slowly creeps in and breach,
I find that my dream is not what’s best for all.

I say it’s not best because of what it’s done.
It only provokes my partner and that isn’t right.
I’ve been doing it for three years and the result is still none.
If I focus on it, an idea that’s not too bright,
We’ll starve to death and we don’t want that, right?

Reality showed me the error of my ways.
It showed me that I couldn’t let my dream stay.
It showed me that it only brought chaos and grief.
It showed me that my dreams didn’t provide relief.
It showed that my dream couldn’t save the day.

I began to see that maybe my dream is nothing but an illusion.
A trap I created so I could call something a passion.
With all the trouble it has brought to my life,
Maybe it’s time I bring an end to its life.
It’s time to sacrifice it and to be a part of the strife.

When all these thoughts came crashing through,
I realized something that made me blue.
In this life, nightmares do come true
And there are dreams you simply can’t pursue.