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!

The Familiar Game of Chess

 

Welcome to my paradise full of pain and deception.

I have created it for you just to feel as if you are home.

Look around the green grass full of painful memories

That you have left and then disappeared.

Look at the river of salty tears,

Those I shed when you kept repeating the same mistakes

Thinking I will never notice, I am not blind.

Take a look around, it’s all you like – a peaceful land.

The trees are made of the lies you have told me

And made me believe they were reality which awaits me.

No need to thank me, I am learning from the best.

Take your morning walk on the pavement built from all the emotions

You made me feel – this is the reason why the road is so bumpy.

You have made me think that I am the one at fault.

Could it be more cruel?

---

Now welcome to my hell full of truths and fallen masks.

This is how my home looks like – ugly and unpredictable

Just like you made me feel.

I have come to take your soul back to where it is supposed to be,

Reliving all you did to me, this time you are on the burning chair.

I can watch how I break your heart to little pieces,

I can suck all the liveliness from your soul.

And then I will shamefully try to make it as if it is okay to suffer.

All in reverse – I torture you and you stay silent trying to understand

What you have done this time or I am the insane.

These mind games are fun, I didn’t realize it back then.

Hell or heaven, different points of view.

Some people feed on smiles, others on tears.

Who is the predator and who is the prey?

---

Love is a game of chess; we are the figures on the black-and-white board.

Every move is important – you either win or lose.

Until you learn how to play it, don’t think of getting any trophy.

Every loss costs a piece of you, being damaged is the aim.

Every win costs a piece of your sanity 

– good or bad, the outcome is the same.

You are either hero or a villain, no in-between.

It’s up to us if we want to break it even - no damage done

Or keep playing to feel the bizarre pleasure of being hurt.

…

And now you know why I am so out of my mind,

I am not the sweet sunshine, devil in disguise.

I have paid the price of being the losing side,

I have enjoyed the pain, I have nothing left to gain.

Shame, fear, tears, broken soul – it’s all in the past.

Let me show you the other side of me

Where I am the winner and you are the one in agony.

The Three Circles of Shame

 

Have you ever felt drained from all the mundane tasks?

Have you ever felt the torment of your existence?

Have you ever felt the same even after deadly storms and beautiful disasters?

Have you ever felt insane just by looking at your reflection in the dirty mirror?

Have you ever felt abandoned even if you are surrounded by your people?

Have you ever felt the cold touch of some invisible hand?

Have you ever felt that your brain is at the verge of its rational resistance?

Have you felt alone walking through the thorny road in search of answers

If you were broken-born or you are a product of the damaged ones?

---

Have you ever noticed the first sign – the isolation is your power,

Pushing everyone aside, making them feel worthless, useless?

Have you ever felt the joy of feeling annihilated, shattered, damaged

And with a smile on your face accepting that you are wicked?

Have you ever noticed the second sign – the pain doesn’t kill you,

What is dead cannot be killed or resurrected, a shameful sin?

But you are not bothered how you are the odd one in the crowd of copy-paste,

You don’t mind to stand tall while the others are falling.

Have you ever noticed the third sign – you don’t care if the world crumbles beneath your feet,

You are ready to face the Death – not like an enemy, more like a friend?

Have you ever felt like the villain of your own story?

No, you are not creature of unsound mind, you promised yourself never again.

…

Three signs, three oddities – these are part of us all.

What does it mean you are whole?

Three traits of disturbed soul, overburdened from all loss and gain

Throughout a lifetime of impossible expectations, a lifetime full of pain.

Three characteristics dark, hidden in the depths of every soul.

Some hide them, some express them with a heart full of pride and joy!

The Castles

 

On this beautiful piece of land, I have built the stone castle to protect my soul

Not to be robbed nor attacked from ill intentions at every possible moment.

It's not impossible to enter, but I will never give the key or share the main road.

Are you ready to enter? Do you dare to accept this challenge?

I have created those breathtaking murals inside these walls

Just to share a piece of myself with myself only.

You can call it art, if you are brave enough, but it's private, just like the real me.

The caste and the mirror, the fairy tale of Snow White in the modern age.

But instead of evil witch and pure maiden, the plot twist is that they both are me.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who will hurt me the most of them all?

No happy end, I am the creator almighty, the narrator with sweet voice.

This story is over, let's move on the next.

…..

High, high up in the bright blue sky; I have built the glass castle.

So transparent, so light like my soul – free-spirited, gentle, carefree.

You need to climb the slippery glassy stairs, an abject attempt to reach me.

I cannot be touched so easily; I have seen the ugliness of the land.

The second home I have created for those who manage to get

Through the roughness of my character, for those who accept my sharp tongue.

But don’t think this route is not that dangerous, I made it full of obstacles.

This is to protect the softness of my spirit, I want me to roam free

Where I am bound to nothing, just like a flying bird

I can see the world from different perspective.

But the story of black swan is a tragic one as well, don’t get carried away.

Who said my aim is the so desired happy-ending?

…

In the end, with my last drops of will powers, I have built the sand castle.

It is near the deep, deep sea, always in fear of get buried beneath

The huge waves of emotional damage and distress.

This one is not a piece of art like the other two.

This one is made from every tear, shattered dream, broken promise,

Loss and awfully painful memories.

This one is my reminder to my future self how fragile a human being is

When the storm comes from all the hidden horizons, beyond the sea line.

The shoreline is my grave place, no tombstones, no crosses, no marks.

We are born alone and alone we die in the comfort of our homes,

Before the mirror on the wall, with head bend; filled with shame.

The truth is ugly, I lost most of my battles - 

Constant wars between the sanity of my mind and the craziness of my heart.

One shall always prevail upon the other and causes all the doubts and pain.

And when the lifetime is about the end,

I just need to be sure I haven’t lived in vain…

…

Three castles, three complex personalities, constantly competing 

Which one is on charge, with “best interest” agenda.

Inner fight for survival between the strength of the human body, the fragile mind and reappearing consciousness,

The struggle of self-acceptance and self-love.