The Art Of Being Reborn

 

Let’s create an art!

The life is mine, the words as well.

I use them to cut deep as if I hold razorblade,

I don’t care how many people left.

I can burn down every shaky bridge that I have created,

Safety first, I need to feel secure when walking on my path.

Let me create!

The life is mine, the paintings as well!

I don’t pose with fake smiles in front of those I abandoned,

I don’t need blind followers, they are unreliable, just a burden.

What is wrong with me, you might ask.

Why I am so defensive, so hard to read.

I have been called ungrateful so many times

That my attitude is now a gray zone – nothing is morally right or wrong.

I can do what pleases me - 

If you can't handle it, call it even and proceed.

Unlike those missing from my circles, I value my time.

I need my brain stimulated, my heart thrilled, my voice heard.

Who cares about the years spent – the price is paid, no way back.

…

So let me burn and destroy,

Let me flood and annihilate!

Let me see the ashes left from my inner raging fire,

Let me see the mud covering this place after the merciless flood

Of my unleashed emotions – call me psychopath.

And let me tell you how good it feels when the pain you endure

Is inflicted by your own decisions and failures, your own choices,

Not placed upon you by those who tried to suppress you 

In fear they might lose control. - Surprise, they lost!

Only the strongest will survive! 

Then why I should carry the weakest on my shoulders?

And the moment it gets real hard, they run away leaving me fading.

…

And in the end when all the stories are written down,

And all the songs are sang with petrifying voices,

And all the gruesome paintings are on the huge display,

And all of you are provoked to find yourselves in my creations,

Then I can finally shall rise from the ashes of my conscience,

Like a phoenix - I shall roam the skies, fly freely.

And until the cycle is repeated over and over again

-Fly phoenix, fly my little monster – high up in the endless sky.

There Is Beauty In The Duality

 

In the middle of the endless night I sit forgotten,

Never imagined my life as a wreck,

Never imagined to feel like I am a failure.

And yet here I am, doubting everything I am,

Question myself if I am still me.

Deconstructing my beliefs, my thoughts, my taste,

My likes and dislikes as if I am a puzzle,

I start anew building up myself with better walls this time.

After every fall is harder to be close to what I used to know.

I am getting better as a builder – these walls are pure perfection.

…

It all fell down – the innocence is long gone, the eyes are sparking with the devil’s flame.

The reflection in the mirror looks like me but she is no more.

…

She is no longer like the sun shining bright for all those who are close to me.

She is more like the moon – shines enough to show the way and yet nothing is fully revealed.

She is no longer peaceful like the small river, trying to find her way to the sea.

She is a full blown sea storm ready to sink the ship regardless the cost.

She is no longer the soft wind which caresses someone’s cheek.

She is a tornado ready to crumble every house on her way.

She is no longer happy or angry, she is no longer mad or disappointed.

She no longer feels, she doesn’t care who walks out of her life – she is self-sufficient.

She can easily cut you out just because she pleases if your presence is not a contribution to her life.

She is She-Wolf – walking thorny paths alone;

She is She-Demon – torturing them with her silence; never gives explanation.

…

She is me – sometimes I feel her distant; sometimes she is next to me.

Loneliness doesn’t bother me, I can remain silent forever.

The reflection in the mirror shows my face but my soul is not the same.

Sometimes I miss her, the child I was, the hope I had, the dreams I dreamt.

But now I am different, my old desires are gone.

Cold hearted, calculating, emotionless and even cruel,

I can safely use them to describe me – I can finally adopt the words said about me.

This time is not the mark of disgrace they try to enforce on me.

These are medals of honor for the battles I have survived.

Sometimes the only way to battle all your demons is to embrace them

And make the Hell you are going through your comfortable home.

…

She is me and I am her – Ying and Yang of one’s soul.

Gentle or cruel – it’s you who picks the side you meet!