Frigid fighting flames

tear apart the peaceful choas

of rolling clouds and screaming stars

caramel drips

like aftertaste acid

trying to sweeten the wound

of the sky.

but it has been split from the inside out

and there is no where left to pour its pain

but in the form of rain

wishing someone

anyone will want

to accept its

ugly too.

for who i once was, this is for you:

i’m not good enough.

never will i hear that

i was born to succeed.

i’ll always prove that

i can’t be as good as others,

so don’t tell me

that my best is good.

i have learned

that hard work does not matter.

it’s a lie

that my failures create character

and you know what? i know 

that my goals are too big.

i’ll never accept that

i’ll make the world a better place.

i’m telling you

i’m a waste of time.

i won’t let anyone think 

I am enough.

(now read from bottom to top/reverse)

#pain #life #understanding #battles #enough #prose #poetry #love #life #happiness #darkness #fight #self-doubt #mentalhealth #lies #succeed #writing #creativity

I guess to everyone that reads this, I pressume you can tell this poem comes from a very personal place. It comes from a place of pain and immeasurable self-doubt. But let me tell you something, life doesn't discriminate between the good and the bad, it just hits everyone. So when life hits you with lemons, take them and throw 'em back at life.

and to all who are reading this, please remember that you are not a bystander in your own life. You are so much and inexcplicably more. There is a life you haven't lived yet and people you haven't met. Don't live your life like a prequel. Just don't. Becuase i'm not going to sit here and tell you that it'll be worth it in the end, becuase I don't know that for a fact. What I do know is that the fight itself will be worth it in the end. The way it shapes you and cuts you, leaves a mark, a story and it sure as hell makes you strong. So... final remarks? Let it hurt today as long as you get up tomorrow, and remember that the fight is, and will always be, worth it.

Snow storms are beautifully ugly. I love them because they make me think about how pretty the world can be when people aren't pissing me off. Especially in wide fields. It's calming to walk in an endless expanse of white, even when you can't find your way back. (I bring a string, because I tend to walk in a straight line, and it tells me the direction I came from.) When I have issues, All I need is a snowstorm. I don't have to worry about any work, or family, or dogs. I just, exist. It makes me happy to know that not everything I do will be judged. It's relaxing when the only thing there is snow. Snow is so calm. It just falls forever. I would like to be snow. Life would be simple as a snowflake.

Rain fell like bullets upon the island, mercilessly hitting the soaked land with all its might. The palm fronds swung wildly in the air slapping against the trunk with the force of the biting cold wind. Peals of heavy thunder shook the earth and a brilliant shock of violet illuminated the sky revealing towering cumulonimbus clouds huddled close together, bearing down upon the sea and the sand. The waves crashed against the shore and swept over it, wetting it even further yet the island mantained its dome- like shape, refusing to sift into the murky water, to drown in its depths.

It must have been a sad and lonely scene, with the storm raging on at no one in particular, and the earth silently taking it upon itself, as if it understood why it was so angry, so hurt, so forlorn.

Slowly, the clouds start forming

They sneak up on the unsuspecting

One moment, all is perfect

The next, it is dark

The thunder rolls

As the heart writhes more

The smile falls away

Like sunshine on a stormy day

Like lightning hits

The first hurtful word falls

As quick as lightning strikes,

All that's good is gone

The darkness closes in

Closes in from all sides

As the frown appears

Situating itself solemnly on its

High and mighty throne

As thunder rumbles

And lightning crackles

The hurtful words and

Actions start to appear

In this picture

Ignoring you, like

The thunder ignores the scared dog

Slashing with words at you, like

The lightning splits through the tree

And then...

I'm alone...

And as the rain starts pouring

The tears start falling

Outdoors, it is storming

Indoors, I'm breaking apart

Until there's no more breath left

Until only a gasping remains

And then...as the storm outside calms down

The tears fall slower inside

As the clouds roll away again

My eyes close and I sleep...finally...

the worst kinds of storms are the quiet ones-

silent snow tumbles onto the field

pausing them all

the machines of plastic and metal

are forced to die

it's cold

it crawls beneath

scratchy gloves

and clings to skin

the clouds are endless

breathing and breathing

melting wads of paper

and

everything

has

stopped

the ones that destroy and nobody notices

Beyond the dark night,

ships sailed the sea.

Oh what a sight

this was to be.

From across the winds

color was faded and gone.

A storm was to begin

but the sailors pressed on.

Through the thunder and rain,

they tried to go.

With a ship rough and wain,

at the pier it started to show.

Though as the night gloomed,

and the light was no more.

It was seen that they were doomed,

as the ship hit the shore.

It is September 21, 2013, hurricane Manuel. It has been raining for the last 26 hours straight. There is so much water flooding my backyard, even though my backyard slopes down with a steep gradation; it is still filling with water. Everything has turned to mud, but the worst has yet to come.

My house is built into a small hill, so the back part of my basement is exposed to the outside world. There are four big windows and a sliding door on that side of the basement, which is level with part of the backyard. The backyard is fenced in. It is a small nice backyard; a lot of space for a young kid and his two siblings to play outside everyday. Outside the fence is two smaller trees and then opens out into a small valley filled with trees. The house is a well built house in a good sized neighbourhood. Or at least was a good sided neighborhood.

There has been so much rain that the two small trees in the backyard have been uprooted. I can hear the house creak with ever large gusts of wind. The pounding of the rain is deafening even from the basement. It is terrifying sitting here wondering if we will make it.

In one corner of the basement close to the sliding door, there is an old box TV that is playing the news. We are sitting in the opposite corner, because that is the side of the basement that is in the ground, allowing us to be safer--hopefully. The old TV is doing its best to continue playing the news; our only hope to know when this hell will end. The TV is flicking on and off, but it flicks on long enough for us to see the map. The map shows the darkness red about to pass over us. The real terror will begin.

We are sitting in that far corner praying to God and to anyone that can hear us, for it to stop. The house is shaking and you can feel it bending. There is a deafening crack and boom. I close my eyes and beg to God that this is not the end. It would not be my end--yet. I open my eyes to see parts of the neighbors house fly past the backyard. I watch as all the parts blow away….They did not make it.

The TV flickers off than on and the news reporter says the storm is not slowing down, it is speeding up. The TV flickers off and there is a moment of silence. Maybe a miracle from God had come allowing it to stop.

The part of the basement we are in collapses. We run into the middle of the basement in hopes to be safe. The front part of the house had collapsed, falling into the basement. At that moment I knew it was soon to be over. The windows shattered. The wind was deafening. So deafening I could not think. I screamed out to God. I begged him to stop this. To stop this pain and suffering. He would answer by call, in due time.

There I sat in the middle of the basement looking out--the now shattered windows-- at the backyard. The playhouse is being ripped apart and flying past the house. I watch as the fence is ripped up. As the wind howls it bends the fence. The fence has somehow broken physics and its physical properties and is now acting like a rope in the wind. I watch in horror of what I see. Then the fence is ripped out of the ground where it was last attached and flew off.

I hear the roof get ripped off the house, and can feel the water pouring into the basement. I continue to beg--beg for it to stop. To save us. There is water flooding into the basement, and the house is being ripped to shreds. All of a sudden the wind is pulling me to the windows like a vacuum. I grab onto the couch in hopes to not be swiped out. I look around to see that my family is--is gone. They were just here. I did not see them get swept out of the basement or hear them scream. They are just gone--gone forever.

I am all alone holding onto the couch for dear life; crying and hurting from the physical pain and emotional pain of losing my family. I fight to live, I fight to hold on, but with one clean gust of wind, I am ripped off the couch and out the sliding door. I hit the frame of the doorway and get flipped around. I feel my body become a rag doll to the hurricane. I look down as I am being ripped into the sky, and see my house. The place I called home--or what was left of it. It was in ruins as much of the neighborhood was. I continued to look down and watch it all disappear, remembering all the good memories. The last thing I remember was hitting a piece of metal in the sky and being ripped in half. It was excruciatingly painful, but it was quick. God answered my pleas and ended the pain and terror.