I rode fast to escape,
but my shadow kept up.

I crossed mile after mile,
but the ghost rode along.

I hit full speed, but the
the darkness overtook me.

I tried to outrun it,
but the silhoutte stayed ahead.

I reached the end of the road,
and metal screamed before i could.

I’m not thrilled of open water
I always liked my feet on dry land.
But the days are getting hotter,
I’ll have to deal with my toes in sand.

Dreams got me thinking of a sun
so hot it could toast my skin.
Stick a fork in me and call me done,
and let the feast begin.

Sometimes I think and sometimes I wish
that I had the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
The water’s fine to take a dip,
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens,
hoping I can still find them.

I get pulled in with currents of my emotion,
I gave up swimming as soon as it started.
Because who in this world can fight the ocean,
when it wants you to be departed?

Dreams got me thinking of palm trees,
leafs so big they create a world of shade.
Feeling of a nice summer breeze
cutting me up like a razor blade.

Sometimes I hope the fabric of reality will rip,
and that I gain the courage to just jump ship,
and pray that the sirens
would guide me to the islands.
Teeth are shaking just like my lip
do I have the courage to jump ship?
I’ll be searching for the sirens
hoping I can still find them.

I want to live amongst the waves shining
like gold paint,
but I’ll only ever find my silver lining
if I become an angel or a saint.
Yet I’ll hope that the sirens
can take my demons and blind them.

Okay, so—
I didn’t just walk out.
I ran.
Not in a cool, slow-mo movie way.
More like tripping over a slipper
and accidentally knocking over my own confidence.

From what?
Everything.
The noise, the drama, the people who say
“Can I give you some feedback?”
(Please don’t. I’m fragile.)

I ran from my to-do list,
from “urgent” group calls,
and that one aunty who asks
if I’ve “lost weight or just look sick.”
Honestly, both.

I ran when I saw my old teacher at the grocery store.
I ran when someone asked,
“What’s your 5-year plan?”
I barely have a 5-minute one
and it mostly involves snacks.

Call it immature—
I call it survival.

I didn’t pack much.
Just chips, a charger,
and a carefully folded blanket of denial.

No regrets.
Now I’m somewhere quiet,
where no one talks about promotions,
weddings,
or “what I’ve accomplished lately.”

Just me, my hoodie,
and a growing list of things I pretend don’t exist

the peasant girl
who once brought water
from the well
in cracked hands
has returned.
she didn’t mean to
leave her home behind —
it was just to escape
the silence between
what she needed
and would be never given.
she left with nothing
but a hunger for life,
so she started living,
and never apologised.

Would that I could escape all this pain
I run and run but my body’s still the same
If I could float I could fly leave my body for a time
To know the weightlessness of not being overwhelmed by this constant pain
To flit in the currents of the wind and not feel the whole world around me spin
To run and not tire to walk and not ache
To fit in with the crowds passing by
To relate to them when they complain about what it is like to fly
To fit in without even having to try
Instead of trying so hard to lock it all up inside
Just smile and say your doing fine
And I’m sorry I can’t make it I haven’t got the time
Just to sit inside and cry till all my tears are dry
Wondering what it would be like if I could only fly

In A Corner
Utterly mine, in the deep silence,
in a house of purest white,
On the cusp of a morning,
with my soul utterly serene.
In the garden of the soul,
among the butterflies,
softly fluttering,
gently whispering,
poems,
within me.
For me,
sighs,
tranquil and hushed,
from that weary breath,
that still persists,
whispering poems,
even as I drown,
in this life that is not mine.
While I await my flight,
to soar from my corner to another place.
That distant realm where the soul takes wing,
where peace knows no end,
where living no longer burdens,
where I shall never tire,
where all is beautiful,
on the very wings of God,
in my own place,
so far away.
Meanwhile,
time softly slips by,
and I still gaze out,
from this beautiful corner,
of a soul that has grown weary of living.

EN UN RINCON

Muy mío, en el silencio,

en una casa blanca pura,

Al borde de una mañana,

con mi alma sosegada.

En el jardín del alma,

entre mariposas,

revoloteando,

susurrando,

poemas,

en mí.

Para mí,

suspiros,

tranquilos,

de ese respirar,

cansado, que sigue,

susurrando poemas,

a pesar de ahogarme,

en esa vida que no es mía.

Mientras espero despegar,

y volar de mi rincón a otro lado.

Ese sitio lejano donde el alma vuela,

donde la paz nunca se acaba,

donde ya no cuesta vivir,

donde ya no me canse,

donde todo es bello,

en las alas de Dios,

en mi lugar,

lejano.

Mientras,

pasa el tiempo,

y yo me asomo aún,

en ese rincón tan hermoso,

de un alma que se cansa de vivir.

First thing I did was run from the scene,
left the old streets and all they’d seen.
She said goodbye — I froze in place,
then turned before tears showed on my face.

Then came the nights I caved to the haze,
lines on the table, weeks in a daze.
Each hit a way to not recall —
but nothing numbed the fall at all.

I crossed state lines, left all I knew,
wore smiles I borrowed and played them through.
But even then, she stayed inside —
a quiet weight I couldn’t hide.

So I left it all, the past, the place,
the life I built around her trace.
Not to explore the world or start anew,
but to survive a life that ended with you.

Always chasing distraction,
Running to keep ahead.
Always to my next action,
My thoughts I still dread.

Studying till I can not,
And then wanting to get drunk.
Thoughts disappear shot by shot,
So I won’t get in a funk.

My feet start to tire,
I sit and breathe.
The thoughts consume me like fire,
Blazing and burning through me.

I try and get up fast,
To escape my own thoughts.
To avoid my harsh past,
But they keep up their taunts.

Strands of wind go over a city,
Blowing out tender light in the sky.
Through the streets, down the road to the center,
It comes dressed in a decayed facade.
A murmuration of starlings keeps changing,
Notwithstanding the wall clouds around.
With no omen outside of the collapsing mansion,
In the dark, it is cornered yet smiled.

Forming a shape in the air, on the windows,
Drumming as if it wants to break in.
And it murmurs sweet words you won't listen,
Since you've locked yourself deep and within.
Shallow eyes are alive, out for answers;
Nails break tissues, revealing the red.
For a decade, a line hasn't been crossed
But it walked over soon when the warning was made.

Now it wears the nice clothes, and it fakes it so well,
Keeping in what is broken, wallowing with no shame.
And the world doesn't notice, the sky is now clear.
You are staying in the corner, so fragile and thin.
It came up with all answers; didn't want to break in.
It is wearing a suit you sewed to fit in.
It might not look so pretty; alas people do not care.
They don't tell empty words from the hell that is there.

It speaks loudly, as sane, without a shadow of doubt.
And the voice that was sweet now has familiar sounds.
Birds are gone with the wind, there is one to blame.
You did not let it in yet allowed it to stay
And replace what was live with what had to be gone.
It is rotten inside; now your mouth's rotting, cold.
Your hands opt for a battle but are biding and glued.
It is seen by too many; you, forgotten and *******.

Picking rags from the floor, you come out of the room.
All of a sudden it is you covering light in the blue.
And you don't realize just how long it has been.
You've been searching for an exit you've robbed yourself of. Still,
You beat on the windows, again and again,
You are hoping to wake what is already dead.
Wasting wishes for a dream to end up somewhere else.
Coming back into clothes that just fit it too well.