Poem: Revolt, Rebel, Revolt, Rebel

Freedom lies,

in that which makes you uncomfortable,

ringing of the alarm bell,

do you hear it?

to wake up or stay asleep? That is the question,

comfortable dreams,

dreaming of a comfortable life,

chained to the bed,

unaware of the tightening bondage.






The echo dims the longer you stay comfortable,

the revolution fades.


When will you break free?

did you hear that echo in your head?

no prince charming,

no magic to set you free,

sinking deeper into the soft bed,

going deeper into the dream,

the chain tightens; the clock ticks,

the uncomfortable freedom,

not as cruel as the comfortable imprisonment,

for one must fight for their freedom every day,

cause sleep comes with shackles.






Eventually, every rebellion dies.


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Poem: What Are You Afraid Of?

What are you afraid of?

that thing which distracted thoughts keep you from remembering,

or what the warm smile hides,

(the real you)

dancing around the light, a

round of applause, for

we are impressed by your cowardice, for

our own cowardice makes us appreciate your movements,

the graceful steps; avoiding the light,

waving pleasantly to your admires,

is that even your face?

but you can’t mask the fear,

fear in each movement,

afraid to stumble

afraid to be rejected,

(afraid to be you)

thinking the light is your enemy, but

it’s the only ally you have,

if you just stop and let it bathe you,

expose you,

all of you,

then what will you be afraid of?



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Poem: Was It Worth It?

The glory gained, fleeting as

grains of sand in a tight fist, never

embedded in you, seeping

through your fingers, you

can’t take it with you, you’re buried

with what you can into this world, nothing

so that prestige of yours which was attained through sacrifice, that

 price of blood you paid for a moment of recognition,

was it worth it?


The same hands that chased fame, once

caressed her soft oval face, her

hand wrapping around your finger, the

same one you used to order your men, that

hand that was so caring, once, now

hardened by the blood of your love, the

Gods were pleased, but

can that hand of yours ever feel anything again?

that hand signed a pact with the devil,

your heart for eternal fame,

infamous you became,

was it worth it?


What did you do with the riches?

Others sing of your end, the

victory of yours is mentioned in lamented tones,

your memories are accompanied by tears,

not happiness for you buried love and rowed your boats over it, poisoning

your household, what man can be forgiven for that?

Yet you lifted your land above all others, so

the whole world saw what greed gets you,

you became an example and not a beacon, so

was it worth it?


The blade won you your name,

the blade marked you as cursed,

were you even happy for a moment?

Did you not hear your daughters scream when others sang songs of triumph?

then one has to wonder,


was it worth it?



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