Winds

Photo by Jan Koetsier from Pexels

My neck bends to your winds and spells out every sentence you mutter.

I am enchanted by your hexes as my spite slides down into the gutter.

Not that long ago I volunteered to be one of your muses,

But you rearranged my words like a puzzle, and I politely refused the music.

My arms swing into your winds and cry for your love in the darkest hour.

I am stuck between your teeth with the rest of my world that you devoured.

No, I did not ask you for much, but you were still unconvinced.

Now white walls talk to you in dozens of voices

And I am gone with the winds.

-JW

The Provoked And Resentful

Photo by Louis from Pexels

The rusty iron rods feel like feathers on my chest.

Don’t worry, don’t you decompress,

Just try to do your best

As you’re dealing with your own god complex.

The acid is dripping down my sides in harmony.

It’s not about what you thought of me,

It’s about how you reigned judgement of those who were free

Because you live in fallacies.

I am not your queen, I am not a lady.

Burn the lines if they seem too hazy.

You’re afraid because you just cannot make me into a mirage

With a weak voice and hands that are shaky.

All you want is pedal to the metal.

You’ve only been someone’s first choice when they settled.

I get it, love, it must hurt to fall off the saddle,

So you channel your resentment into the corporate ladder.

And the knives feel gracious on my tongue.

Go and teach a lesson to the young,

Set an example on how to drown a voice yet unsung

As you’re desperately removing my gurgling lungs.

-JW

Every Villain Needs An Origin Story

Photo by Olivier Darny from Pexels

You acted like it was difficult to dig a hole in my spine.

You pretended for decades that all the things I have gathered were not really mine.

But I forgave because I always push through the pain.

There are no shortcuts or leeway for those who do not learn the rules of the game.

Guilt knows how to crawl on your shoulders without a sound.

I was running, bruising my own knees just to realize that I was the feared hound.

And you convinced me that letting go is oh, so easy, baby,

But I am on a guilt trip, lost and alone in the desert, with no one left to save me.

The anger inside tears apart all that is tranquil and scenic.

My teeth are sharp, every creature steps back when I smile wide, like I mean it.

You act cool, you keep your distance, you just observe

As they come up with theories about my origin story that are nothing but absurd.

I forgave you then, and like clockwork I forgive you now.

You know they will never believe me, a beast this violently off-putting and loud.

Humiliation is a strong leash; it chokes you without a sound.

I keep running, bruising my own knees, knowing too well I am forever bound.

-JW

Perfectly Silent

Photo by Jeswin Thomas from Pexels

They kneel before me as I enter the city.

No knives, no boots,

Just some hope behind layers of pity.

I will never surrender, I will never cave.

This is my home,

No need for me to play this brave.

My dark thoughts work better alone.

The misery never leaves,

It whispers, curses and moans.

But I dream about my city when I sleep.

This is my haven,

This is the heart I wear on my sleeve.

And they kneel as I am ready to dive in.

No fear, no dreams.

Just some salvation, perfectly silent.

-JW

Unsafe

Photo by João Cabral from Pexels

I fear stillness and putting down roots.

Home is needless

If you only think after you shoot.

When you live on pins and needles,

Nothing is safe.

Be it graveyards or grand cathedrals,

Be it deep sea caves.

-JW

Crushed

Photo by Elina Krima from Pexels

You pick and choose the colors you assign to my halo

While my ribs are bursting open like volcanoes.

My worth is always equal to how much I lie for you,

After all that I did you still try to hide my truth.

I paint myself in gold, but you erase all my glory.

The more I obey, the more you twist my stories.

There is nowhere to escape, only pressure on my chest.

My lips are painted grey as you tell me to rest.

You crush my lungs between the tips of your fingers.

The sound cracks in half and the violence lingers.

You pick and choose the spots where you cut me open.

As I bleed out dry, they still look for a motive.

-JW

The Downward Slope

Photo by Mariana Montrazi from Pexels

I reflected at the still lakes,

I searched through hundreds of wells.

They say I am missing my heart.

Well, I do not know where it fell.

The mirror image says nothing.

I am out of pity and patience.

The deep waters still scare me,

Even if they are an imitation.

My thoughts joke crudely,

Taking away the humanity I saved.

The left leg punches thin air,

The right one breaks, trying to be brave.

And I am stuck at the beginning,

Always tied to one more hope.

The end is reaching out its sharp claws.

I am headed for the downward slope.

-JW

Only One Way Out

Photo by Artem Saranin from Pexels

No, I don’t expect them to see this as clearly as I do.

I’ve been scorching my eyes,

Trying to erase the moments I’ve been lied to.

No, I don’t bother when they send the dogs after me.

I keep running up the hill,

Trying to save my barely breathing legacy.

No, I don’t stop, I don’t even look back when they yell.

Their teeth snarl angrily.

I know too well that it’s a telltale.

No, I don’t hide when they breathe down my cold neck.

I’ve burned all my masks,

Turning your powerplay into a wreck.

No, I don’t ask for comfort once they hunt me down.

They’ve been after me for a while,

They’re my ticket to flee this town.

-JW

Alone In Your Mind

Photo by Jacek Jan Skorupski from Pexels

Your scalp tingles when the night loosens its safety pins.

Two feet can take you far but so can your sins.

Still, you rush towards the lanterns like a little kid.

The jar of darkness has lost its seven lids.

You feel like it is your fault, and you want mend it.

The stars meddle with your vision, but you cannot defend it.

You hear voices in the background screeching for truth.

They turn into whimpers.

They are coming for you.

-JW

They Took Our Mothers

The sun still rises, even when all has been written down.

We switch disguises,

We offer the mountains our crowns.

The ink betrays us, it paints us dismal and cruel.

Our crimes are heinous

But we try to keep our heads cool.

The burning sky raises hell over our weakened frames.

We are losing our high,

Lifting armors and cursing names.

There is no one to bother, not a soul will hear us out.

They took our mothers,

Exchanged fresh air for doubt.

-JW