“I believed that I am ready
but I remembered wishing
for a mirror in front of me
my reflection saying “I am steady”.
I came with a golden armour
but suddenly realising that
it is still flesh and blood
in the end just nothing but an actor.
These bright stars no more
and I am engulfed by this
stifling darkness and depravity
I am no phoenix that will soar. (12)
Just another sorry pile of unborn ashes,
Not knowing how to mend these bruises. (14)
Maybe just another number
in this no land of bright castles
and I am no sleeping beauty but
God Almighty! Let me slumber. (18)
And possibly dream for once.
Keep on dreaming that dream that I always had,
Hands curling each other tight and no one was sad,
And I am sorry that there were still no bright castles,
But there were our laughs, the waves, sand-covered sandals. (24)
It seemed like a promising destiny
when we touch our faces and just
look through our eyes, our torn souls,
falling deep into this hopeless fantasy. (28)
Then, I remember (29)
How can you possibly be there
when I am just nothing but a number
in the crowd of the same people
even if I lay myself out cold and bare.
How can someone like me catch you
when I am just another pumpkin
no white carriage and glass slippers
a bird with no wings and you just flew.
Bright castles, I can never build
never ever even if I sold my soul to
the laughing Grim Ripper on my door
I am an empty wish never to be filled. (41)
Look at these lines to dismember! (42)
How so futile that is so laughable
giggling loud at my own despair
at trying to ignore that one voice
telling me I am never capable. (46)
Maybe I will just let them trample
I am an unscripted Ophelia in this
looping Hamlet that no one will see
Look how this theatre crumble! (50)
And maybe now, I ought to remember. (51)
It is time to accept that there is no cry for salvation,
Open up my mouldy gangrene heart at my own corrosion,
Let me smile my empty smile as I see no finishing touch,
I am a poem cut off but that’s fine, there’s nothing to clutch. (55)
Blow away into the wind, my desolate phoenix ashes,
Because I will never know how to mend these bruises. (57)
And eventually I will fade for once.
Just once. ” (59)
I have no idea how I got into this rather melancholic poem – probably a sad song or two.
I just realised that I have a great tendency to write longer-than-necessary poems, in which many of my fellow creative writers back when I am in University did tell me to shorten it. Thus, I might come back to this poem and release an edited version.
For now, though, I hope that you guys have enjoyed reading it!