Thought this world would suffocate me, but I heard the roar of the engines and sighed in relief again.

Always thinking what if I didn’t make friends with my fears and smiled once.

Those days when one smile I smiled cost me to shed one small tear inside that tore my soul in two. 

Lifting the corners of my mouth wouldn’t soothe the void inside. 

I saw my mother cry and I didn’t know how to tell her how her pain was a flood, I merely felt her pain.

The tears she wept each time she saw her mother alone, over seas, across storms, traversing fertile ground of nostalgia and youth.

Her song is sad and her tears have the power to summon the tears to the edges of my eyelids.

But at the edge of the cliff, it will fall into oblivion and she will not know for my hand is quick to feign indifference.

My tears are the ghosts in my room, my only witnesses to the inexplicable, capricious sadness of one who has lost her way. 

I cannot share the pain of so many hellish nights to those patriarchal watchful eyes that laughed at my pain. 

Indulging in every emotion to see which one would distract me from the urge inside to let the walls I built collapse on its builder.

The kids I know are not awake, I have seen their minds and wonder if they have a heart for pain.

Knowing that the hardest part is that they don’t see pain when it’s before them.

Even alive, they might as well be blind for they have the gift of ignorance, of successful indulgence and perpetual oblivion.

They pour salt on my wounds and receive their daily dose of delight. 

I have gone out of my way to believe that I could do the impossible on my own, to redeem them.

Looking back on those lonely rides, it almost becomes nostalgic the pain I bore like Atlas.

Sweetness becomes elevated in those moments of terror, like the saving grace we never will understand or define.

I thought it was too good to be true, but it was a lack of faith and overindulgence in fear to drive me over the edge.

I am no longer at the fork in the road, I have completely lost my way.

Like a lost sheep, I know that I cannot save myself anymore but I am not afraid, never, no, not ever

The peace that seeps in the moments of terror should never be ignored, for blessings are rarer than red rubies. 

Seeing too much of a world that not only births hate but consumes and forgets its misery makes you want to go blind.

I have turned away from a fantasy to the path of faith that requires not sight but a heart that responds to wonder and majesty.

You cannot save yourself in an illusion that was destined to fail when reality began raining on your parade.

Seeking the strength to remove the blindfold made me realise I had lost my way long ago.

But because there is grace, I know and believe that the lost get lost to be found.