Member Poem

The stars never fail to amaze me so you do.
Once I saw the moon shining in eyes of darkness, dancing gracely.
Since then allIwant is to be near you.

I have scars on my face that reminds me how hard it all had been.
From my side the sight of your grey bruises makes me believe, all the broken parts doesn't need mending they are the birthmark of survival , of the misery we escape, bravely.
I had seen your side that you drap with dark, hide behind clouds, thinking it shouldn't be seen.

How do I know? Because I'm the one who talks to you every night.
But you stay quiet and I'm too fluent in reading silence, silently.
I still can understand all of your silence and all of your love that comes to me as moonlight.

But darling don't you worry the moon is still moon in all it's phases; breathtaking.
I would shift my pillow closer to the full moon, and even closer when you are gone ,anxiously.
So don't feel lone, refrain yourself from thinking I'm an Aesthete, as whenever you are gone I look for you even more; thinking of you gone ,it's heartbreaking.

And all your scars and that side you hide from all I would kiss them till I no longer can move.
So never let your light dim, as all people like me would be all alone hopelessly.
Don't worry for the distance between you and I, I'm down here you are up there and to meet you I could bring heavens down if you approve.

Who am I? The language of stars? No, I'm the dark between the stars.
And I heard people say "Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear" that flows barely.
I heard them asking you what has made you so ,what you had witnessed?
And how would I tell them you saw me crying for you, for your love and how much I'm starving to bleed on paper about this love of ours.

Even if I have to drink the darkness I would so you can shine the brightest you could. . . . .

What is hope?
And whats the difference between hoping and dreaming?
Imagine with me
My state have been like the bird whose wings were cut off and thrown away, who was caged behind metal bars.
Mourning for the sky .
Aimless.
Hopeless.
I'm throbbing out of pain, I'm stinking in my own blood,and wounds refuse to heal.
I look at the sky with eyes full of hope.
But it didn't take me long to realize that I have been abandoned.
I look at the sky with resentment.
I have been abandoned by the sky, as i no longer know how to fly.
At night I search for the stars and they too fail to twinkle like they used to do.
At dawn I look at sun as a new hope.
But now days and night are equivalent for me.
The day comes and goes, the night falls front of me for another day to come.
And i just sit there, falling in the loop of emptiness.
I once again look at the sky but no response to be heard.
My eyes have been sore in search of a way to get out from here.
And the voice in my head echoes my fall is near.
But how to tell it I'm falling for a long time that what rock bottom felt like my body forgot.
I think the rock bottom would feel like getting somewhere at least I would not be falling anymore.
I ask the heavens--
"Am I not trying hard enough to survive?"
"You need to try harder" they say.
But isn't it obvious even after my freedom was taken, even when my wings are chopped off ,im abandoned but I'm still alive, I still cling on to hope thinking I would survive.
Isn't this my limit?
Am I not already on the verge of breakdown?
They say great time comes with great efforts.
My eyes have given up on looking for hope.
My broken wings have healed leaving with me nothing but scars.
And finally one day i broke off from that cage.
But i can't fly......
Others taunt me for being different, for the fact that I can no longer fly.
So I'm left with no choice but to return to that same cage that cursed me with its glory of enslavement.
I'm stuck in between the threads of destiny and deed that had tied a knot so tight around my neck that I might choke and die .
And whats the best part nobody will know how I left this world.
With how many untold stories,
With how many broken pieces,
With how many hope.
These days I often blur the reality with fiction.
I see I could fly.
But oh today I closed my eyes.
And the world gotten a calmer place.
It was as if I have gone deaf.
I died with grief in my heart.
Melancholy in my eyes.
And the heavens finally looked for me to answer my prayers.
But alas now I'm gone.
So my dreams
And my struggle
But I still wish I can fly in my afterlife
Too high
Beyond the sky
This is hope
And all the things in between hoping is dreaming.
In dreams I can fly but in hope I can only wait to be rewarded for my suffering, even when the heart breaks, even when the dawn falls, even when I'm with left with nothing I shouldn't stop hoping.
Even when the rain pours, even when the summer burns, even when the winter wind blows I have to stand with my arms open waiting for the reward to fall anytime so i can catch it . And not caring about what happens to my hand afterwards even if can't use them or they have became malfunctions I don't care. Even if I can't use my hands afterwards it's okay I got what I was hoping for that's it.
That's what hope is.
That's the difference

Now whose at mistake?
Me? Or the one who wrote my story? Who didn't know how to love me Or who loved me like the fire loves the innocent, like the poverty loves the orphan or like the God that loves the broken?
None matters to me
Only thing that matters is that I'm gone
Despite of all i was burning and I'm still burning and where to find the that holy grail put outs these flames of rage?
*The heavens stay silent*
They really do love me like the mute loves talking
But it's nonsense
That's what they made me feel about their love.