Tag: poetry

Take My Guilt As A Deposit

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There’s always at least one storm brewing in the distance, and I keep it that way.

Trouble seems to find me too easily, so I only wish for just one more day.

But unless I see the dark clouds forming by the horizon, I cannot go on.

The horror is like music to my ears, and I cannot help but sing the song.

They call me a masochist when it comes to proving everyone else wrong.

I see the correlation and I don’t fight it; I’ve nurtured it all summer long.

The shadow creature within my chest keeps feeding on uncertainties.

It never controls me, no, it only gets fed when I do as I please.

When it comes to self-sabotage, I’ve never met anyone quite like me.

I’m the perfect tirage – they taste the wine, then destroy my psyche.

There’s a storm in the distance, there always is, and they say I cause it.

Trouble seeks me out in the darkest of places, takes my guilt as a deposit.

-JW

Forgiveness

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My axis spins around me whenever I drift away in my own thoughts.

The desire for life mixes with the last echoes of death,

And I forgive all the insecurities I once fought.

The sky stays still, it makes everything look easy, almost seamless.

I dream about my childhood, but nothing seems right,

Almost like I have always been Satan’s mistress.

The voices in my head make me scream from the steepest hillside.

All the energy I lose on petty things always comes back,

It burns alive in my chest, it stays inside.

And the pain doubles in size whenever someone dismisses my cries.

My axis obediently bends to the rising ocean waves,

And I forgive all of you who never apologized.

-JW

The Good One

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I used to know how quickly your eyes turned black when you spoke with your sins.

It was an honest battle until the very end,

Until you let them perish you and win.

I followed you down a hundred hidden rabbit holes to hold onto that last spell.

My intentions were wicked, I must admit,

But I did not lie when I promised to raise hell.

When you laughed, I smiled brighter than a scorching sun on Midsummer’s Day.

We buried each other in gilded affection,

We wrote our names in red clay.

I used to know that you are the good one, the one to return my long stolen peace.

It was an honest battle until the very end,

Until you put me back on my knees.

-JW

Into The Deep

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The parts I hide sting me with the fury of a forgotten flame.

I’ve been changing my paths while you’ve been looking away.

My soul has been leaking fumes out of the wooden frame.

But the cold metal bites my bones, honey, I know I must pray.

You promised I’d pay for all the storms I rained over you.

Leaving you seems like walking on sunshine, why would I care?

No, you don’t have the right to claim that you feel blue.

I carried your grey remains for years, I’m used to the stares.

The sun is unforgiving, it’s still not as ferocious as I can be.

I cover my truth in disguises while you sing yourself to sleep.

And I’m thinking about leaving, not sure if I can be free.

Maybe it’s just between me and you,

Maybe I can fix this by dragging you into the deep.

-JW

No Proof

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The lingering ghosts from my past are so faded,

I can barely prove they were ever really here.

The same goes for me and the lives I’ve traded.

Some say they only see me when I disappear.

But don’t you underestimate my caution,

The flame in my lungs hides an honest scream.

They told you I can never stop being in motion.

They didn’t tell you that I’m stuck in a dream.

This loop is a cruel beast, this loop is endless,

But I still follow it, hoping to escape the ghouls.

Their cloaks make me too weak and defenseless.

It’s killing me but there’s no goddamn proof.

-JW

Walking On Roses

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Someday the work will pay off the scars it came with.

I will still swallow it like a bitter pill,

Looking for another blameless culprit.

The whispers use my sadness as an overplayed decoy.

But the veins in my neck run with madness,

And I know I deserve joy.

So, once in a while I dip my fingers into the light.

My essence screams in agony.

At least it gets me through the night.

I know this wild river was not meant to be mine,

It was determined before my time,

But lately I have been wondering why.

And perhaps there is life outside of this concrete.

Maybe the scars can heal just fine?

Maybe I must leave the main street?

Yet, my past selves have to eat, and I stay focused.

God, I swear on my life –

This routine feels like walking on roses.

They admire the beauty but never feel my pain.

I still fear that the path I am paving

Will be washed away by the rain.

-JW

Growth Spurts

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There must be something so satisfying about the way I hide my hurt.

The crumbs of sanity fall out of me until I become plain and absurd,

But everyone seems to love it, and I wonder whether I should too?

Pleasing all the souls I meet turns out to be my personal Waterloo.

The pressure sticks its filthy nails in my ribs when I am not watching.

My old dreams float by, I no longer consider them worth catching.

There is still a fire behind my pupils, but no one sees that spark.

I do not let anyone notice my dripping eyes in the thickest dark.

Another morning always arrives a moment too soon and it hurts.

The days in the calendar cross themselves off as I wish

That I am all out of growth spurts.

-JW

Is This Luck?

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Three years in the purgatory can feel like throwing away a pound of flesh for free.

Everyone who cared even slightly tried to kill my curse,

But I kept crawling, blinded and obsessed, high on a killing spree.

The light I chased like my personal Northern star ended up being just cheap neon.

The work I put in quickly turned into secondhand dust,

It was polluted by the greed of some silver demons.

Still, I chase the dream like it is worth combusting alive for, but the days drag on.

I wonder why I sold my mind, was it worth it?

Why did I write my death sentence in orange crayon?

The desk sits heavy on my chest as I go through another unfulfilling nine to five.

Everyone who cared chases their own curse now.

If I am lucky, I will be the first one to make it out alive.

-JW

Demigod

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When the demigod speaks, everyone must lower their heads.

That is how the system works, kids, keep chewing on lead.

My clock is stuck on a moment in time that feels too soon.

I want to get out, but we are not allowed to look at the moon.

When the demigod speaks, everyone must raise their hands.

He will throw out a spear and see in which flesh it lands.

My clock is ticking down moments I can never get back again.

I want to leave, but I am afraid to see another dead end.

When the demigod speaks, everyone must suffer in silence.

You cannot escape the suffocation in caves or in highlands.

My clock is whirling out of control, it wastes away my time.

I am begging for a crack in this glass cage,

But I fear it will reveal my crimes.

-JW

The Red Line

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Not all my innocence is lost, I just hide it with fury.

You crossed a red line today,

And I guess now you will have to sue me,

No, I am not taking my anger off the front pages.

Let them read it too,

Let them see how harmful your rage is.

And do not call your bloodthirsty intentions “attraction”.

I will never tolerate it,

I will tear you into the smallest fractions.

Let me light the matches and start the forest fire,

Watch it consume your life

And rot you in the eyes of your admirers.

Not all my innocence is lost, I hide it with my youth.

You were wrong when you assumed

That I will not scream the truth.

-JW