Lovely

You are the silence in my song,
The virtue when I speak,
The calm before the storm.

I am but the shadow of your voice.
Thinking of what I can,
To make you more lovely,
Than what I am.

It doesn’t matter if I fall,
If that is all I’ll spend,
For you to be lovelier,
than when we met.

You are rhyme when I am wrong,
The love when I am weak,
The way to not conform.
The reason that I speak.

This actually a song.

AOTC and the Prince

He walks a long a road not wide,
That expands a foot or thrice.
But for little Tim, half of half a foot in size,
He needs quite the big stride.
But for the man in front who seems to not know where to go.
He only needs a step to be ahead.
But the problem is, where will he go?

The red sky rises and the leaves bend down,
it was alike to a mother’s touch how the rays rained down.
Where am I to go, says I, a prince.
One full of responsibilities and ties to convince.
Knowing and unknowing of the possible consequence ahead of me.
Does hesitation take over me, leaving me aimless of where I am to go? 
Am I lost or am I free of where I choose to go?

What lies in front of them is but a fork.
One way is known to go where a King once went
And the other is to adventure anew, maybe even to a land unmet.
While here and now is what is before a choice, before he makes a mark.

Do you go on the road where you know its certainties?
Or take the road where one is all uncertainties?

In between is the grass hedged by the road,
Which seems completely exclusive of the road.
But with a little clink, clunk.
With his face suddenly touching the floor.
A circular dish falls,
And runs into the man.

It was compass, with no directions.
Not even sure if it was pointing North.
It was broken, so to speak.
It was not for the lost or the guided.

But seeing the unlabeled dial, the prince was enlightened.
It did matter the uncertainty or the certainty,
It did matter whether he was lost, free, or guided.
But what especially mattered was to trek the road he started.

Tim Can walks along the grass and the road.
There was no real path to begin with.
The road is all in your head.
With a path but a definition of your place.

The Broken and Sad

Today, I am trying my best not to feel depressed by the things that haunt me.

I think too much, even about trying not to think about it at all.

I always rush at life and its complexities.

Seeking to find my fortune in the territory of others.

Not monitoring at all, how I am breaking apart.

Even if there is ever an elixir to overthinking, which is not to think at all.

It is only  an elixir, a fictional solution to a real problem.

With just how much a moment could count,

With its worth like a speeding bullet.

You can either shoot yourself with it or hit something great.

And if you missed just hope it doesn’t ricochet.

 

 

Chapter 5 of GON: The Cage is Your Own

The Cage is Your Own

“I am not caging you, I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Or rather I will be killed by Cutio if he finds out I took you outside to a crowded area. And I barely even have the approval to stand 5 kima (meters) beside you or anyone at all.

Donatello smacks my hands off him and waves his hands hysterically.

“You are! You are! You all are! You don’t know how I feel!” Donatello cries out.

“…”

My chest was burning. It became harder to breath with each passing moment. His words almost ruptured my lungs.

What part about not being understood did I not understand?

A moist feeling runs down my eyes. My sight was like petals in the rain, like when the petal touches the leaf, the suspension breaks and the dew slides down.

As warm as a white lie can be, there was a happiness I could feel for seeing this, which was so fickle and spontaneous. The happiness of me embracing the feeling of being the more pitiful one.

“Elo is not any worse than me. What a strange comfort.” I mocked myself.

It was in this heartbreaking truth I found clarity. I quickly chased his wailing arms with my own. And try to lock him in them.

It came to me as a surprise that he did not fight back. He might be tired from our struggle previously or he recognizes me.

The reason Donatello approaches me is because I have a great distinction among most people. And that is I am young but with white hair.

My figure is not intimidating even without consideration of my face. And my white set of locks stands out.

If it was not for this Elo might not recognize me at all.

Since he can’t see faces.

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