What's control
If not a need for love to show
Bring it up, blow it up
Nothing's ever good enough

Look at me so I can be free
It's the only way I know how to be me
If there is no mirror,
How can I see clearer?

Hold me tight, save me from
my inner fight
On my own, I just drown
every night.

I curse and swear
Light candles and **** away
But it never goes my way
So I keep putting on a play.

I feel like a half moon in a full blue sky, Weaving neap tides, a subtle lullaby. I drift in circles, revisiting places, Wishing the wind could carry me through spaces.

Caught in a cycle, I must confess, Some days I feel whole, moments of success. Everything's beautiful when I’m truly living, Yet I always find myself back at the beginning.

Like the moon, I have my phases, A relentless return to familiar places. In an unbroken cycle, a path well-tread, Like the moon, my heart waxes and wanes instead.

I'm a half moon in a full blue sky, Weaving neap tides, singing a lullaby. Drifting in circles, retracing my steps, Wishing the wind could carry me, I confess.

In this cycle, I find my truth, Days of fullness, moments of youth. When I'm present, life is a vivid scene, Yet I always return to where I’ve been.

Like the moon, my phases are clear, Always returning, year after year. In this unbroken cycle, my heart finds its way, Waxing and waning, night turns into day

Her hair, reminiscent of glass
Dusty perplexions, missing pearlescent marbles
She's a dream awaiting the arrival of the next writer
To speak of her story to the masqueraded creature
Posing as light to the dark universe she's encased in

She's the raging madness in her soul
Thrashing yet loving anyone who kisses her
Hidden love affairs, descending silhouettes
Leftover clothes tossed unruly; a decadent stench
Intrusive but polite to wilting foliage

Lip stains, droplets of blood, dislocated jaws
Time, unforgiving as always, punishes its victims
Misery coats her barely twinkling soul
The one who shatters her mirror
May forgive her to finally be free.

Objects in the mirror,
aren’t so clear as they want to appear; trying to pretend
life isn’t so hard,- only disguises itself behind a facade.
While living an empty dream in a bottle;
sometimes I feel so trapped in that same bottle's charade.  
Forever thirsty for more of time; the flesh never truly satisfied,
and attempting to shed the past, with bones so long dried.

There’s question of
whether, all we really desire is truly attainable,
Some of it feels so unavailable; giving someone a whole universe,
for them to prefer some space. Even when there’s a lot of
relative justice- there are moments when I struggle to
connect with others, cos I don’t feel as relatable.

Where’s the point of
crying out your piece of mind, even when they claim
to call all of your actions, sharp sometimes?  
And do you see yourself clearly in a broken mirror
sometimes- with its shards piercing right in your eyes?
Cos if you can’t afford to take it all in, you’ll just cut
a moment short, with that broken piece of mind.

Black mirror tears; crying in the dark—
reflecting on things about life, throughout late nights,
Buried talk with an assortment of people nowadays;
enduring their dead conversations; also texts feeling so late.

Overbearing much— bearing on regrets that weigh heavy
on a heart; a heart only heavy by weights you choose to carry.

So, do you carry on carrying that weight; the baggage
of your eyes, carries around judgments as more court cases.

“Just in case, I need some old evidence to prove
my worth,” you say, just in case.

Afterwards cracking that mirror in the dark—how do you
really see yourself any better, if you keep hiding in the dark?