Not a warrior

Not a warrior

There’s magic beneath his eyes,

sometimes dark, sometimes white,

a spell that binds,

or a spell that hides.

There’s a fight inside his heart

beating like a drum (of war).

It goes on and on,

another victim, another body dropped.

And it hurts to know

that he won’t win

because he’s fighting alone.

But I found myself

again under his spells

trying to see, trying to help.

There’s warmth coming from his hands,

sometimes slow, sometimes fast,

a touch that burns,

and a touch that calms.

There’s so much inside his head,

making him lose his mind.

It goes on and on,

another ghost, another live spurned.

But I found myself

at his side again

trying to fight, trying to help.

And maybe it won’t work,

and the war will go on.

Or maybe it will,

and I’ll end in an unmarked grave.

Slowly

Slowly

It starts slowly and you can’t see it,

You know it’s there,

but you can’t pinpoint where.

You say one less word,

hear one more silence.

You keep a feeling quiet,

and feel a little worse.

Only there’s always more,

you see it now.

You close your eyes,

try to kill that thought.

A thought that doesn’t die,

that won’t ever die,

not anymore,

not any more

that the truth will.

And then there’s that voice,

the one that only speaks with agony.

The voice that remembers,

the one with experience.

“Bury it before it gets there,

to the last breaking point.

There’s no cure for that,

no returning from that”,

whispers the voice.

Only it’s always too late,

you see it now.

You open your eyes,

cry to erase the hurt.

And you say less words,

and hear more silences.

You keep all feelings quiet,

and feel a lot worse.

It starts slowly but now you can see it,

You know it’s there,

and you can tell exactly where.

Dead hope

Dead hope

Some nights all the lights fade out,

all the stars disappear into the darkness.

Some nights there’s just a dead hope,

just a grave with the name of life.

Sometimes it makes you want to cry,

to cry until you scream at the top of your lungs

Sometimes it makes your head hurt,

until it hurts so much that you give up.

I don't even know what I’m doing here,

I just want to close my eyes for a while.

I don't even want to sleep with my dreams,

and my dreams are afraid of the dead hope.

Because you try and it’s never enough,

it never works, and you’re not the one.

Because you can’t win when you’re losing,

you can’t if it means breaking your heart.

“My mistake”, you said again and again,

you whispered that to everyone again.

“My mistake”, that’s what you repeat,

and in the end, that’s what you believe.

I don’t even want to be that person,

the one who thinks too much,

I don’t even know how to stop it,

being the one whose hope is dead.

I'm darkness

I'm darkness

I'm a ghost of present and future,

a ghost of nothing and everything.

I'm a word that nobody wants to hear

and everybody needs to say.

This is the difference between being a hero

and dreaming about being one:

I'm a shadow of memories,

a shadow of past, regrets and lost.

But today I'm drowning, falling and breaking,

screaming, crushing and dying like never before.

Tonight I’m whispering to the silence:

“please, come and get me.

Please, turn off the sounds of chaos”.

They say. They lie. They hurt.

They try and I lose.

They laugh as I fight.

I run away as they watch.

I’m a story of tears and dreams,

a story of heavens and hells.

I’m a song the dead have to sing

and the living should never forget.

This is the difference between being here

and dreaming about being there:

I’m a reminder of mistakes,

a reminder of past, regrets and lost.

But tomorrow I’ll be floating, rising and breathing,

crying, sighing and living like ever after.

Then I’ll be shouting to the noise:

“please, come and get me.

Please, turn on the sounds of peace”.

They hush. They lie. They harm.

They laugh and I fight.

They try as I win.

I come back as they lose.

-13-

In another reality, you don't ask how, when or what.

In another reality, you are who tries to do that.

In most of my dreams, you are who dares.

In my own world, you have done it and my heart doesn't hurt.

In a perfect world, I wouldn't be writting anything about that.