villanelle in the sky

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I have always wanted to fly,
but the sun burns sickly bright,
and I am much too scared to die.

Don’t we all dream of blessed light,
shadowed by wings unfolded up high?
Aren’t we all born wanting to fly?

But mother gifted feathers not fit for the sky,
and life-altering wax is too hard to find,
eyes on the ground, too scared to die.

Then the storm hit in the dark of the night,
the winds did scream and clouds did cry,
heaven is just as absurd as wanting to fly.

Alas, no time to dwell on man-made lies,
eyes straight ahead, forget the idealised,
it does not matter if we want to fly,
life is wasted on being too scared to live or die.

the storm to be (she)

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Image courtesy of: Weewill

trigger warning: to be safe, there are mild allusions to self harm, body image issues, depression etc.

grey skies
and downcast eyes
the lost girl
leaves a trail of
silence and half-lies
in the hopes
that she’ll find
salvation
before the storm
arrives

she has already tried
drawing maps
on her arm
to help her navigate
the cold black nights
but she could never
find the way
before the cross-roads
faded into jagged lines
that mark her skin
with rods of blinding light

Continue reading “the storm to be (she)”