Just A Small Rant

via Daily Prompt: Instinct

I don’t share my grief with people.

Call it instinct. Or call it pride.

Show of sympathy by others when I’m grieving is just that – a show. “I understand what you’ve been through…” No, you don’t. You are just trying to make me feel better, which I appreciate, but the words you speak are as genuine as Donald Trump’s tan.

When I’m grieving, leave me to myself. If you want to help, make a cup of tea.

Don’t give me the “There is a life after death”, “It was meant to be” bullshit. Please.

I may not be an adult, but that doesn’t mean you need to dumb down serious things like death for me. If it hurts, it hurts. No two ways about it.

I like my tablets like I like my words – without sugarcoating.

 

Altered

index

 

Strange, how I never saw you

For who you were

And you never saw me

For who I was.

But still.

Your elegant handwriting

Is imprinted in my mind.

Like leaves between the pages

Of a book that was left behind.

But still.

The sounds the keypad made

When I dialled your number

Ring as fresh and familiar

As the rhythm of my heart.

But still.

Your jibes, your taunts,

Your needs, your wants

Get drowned in the memory

Of your tinkling laughter.

Really.

Strange, how time can make

Hell seem beautiful

As if it were viewed through

Rose-tinted glasses.

 

Happy 400, Will

celebrating-william-shakespeare-5125440101416960.2-hp

Lovely Google Doodle here

 

 

We know what we are, but know not what we may be.

William Shakespeare

The first work of Shakespeare’s that I read was an abridged version of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, back when I was eight. I remember being enthralled by the beautiful name of the play. Whoa, I thought. Think about combining midnight and summer.

Then, the sheer number of characters attracted me: Titania, Puck,  Oberon. And the love quadrilateral with people of similar names. I remember having a headache trying to differentiate between Hermia and Helena, and their confusing loves. A petty eight-year-old, no wonder.

Now, I’m much older, and having read some more Shakespeare (and other authors), I feel that an average human lifespan is not enough to appreciate his insight into life.

Here’s to a happy 400 years of peace and quiet to William Shakespeare. You will love long in our hearts. You have lived quite long there, actually. Whatever.

Cheers!

Mads

Landing

Landing

That’s pretty deep.

Because it’s not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. Of all people, you should know that, it’s not the fall, it’s never the fall. It’s the landing!

– Jim Moriarty from Sherlock

Life.

Cruising.

Bones.

Tingling.

Blood.

Racing.

She thought it was flight,

So she flew with delight.

But she soon lost sight

And fell into the night.

Slowly, the rancid smell

Crept up her nose.

Slowly, the claustrophobia,

Swallowed her soul.

With fear in her eyes

And pain in her voice,

She was too late to realise

That she had landed in her pit of lies.

Life.

Crushed.

Bones.

Broken.

Blood.

Flowing.

Getaway

Rushing into the ghostly arms

Of dark-robed Sleep.

Seated on a shadowy throne,

Engulfing me with dreams.

No other way to relieve myself,

No other way of escape.

No other way to run from the horror

Sleep is my only getaway.

A pretty sleepy response to Poetry 101 Rehab. Goodnight, sleep tight!

Sugar

Chocolates, cakes, and candies,

Are bitter in front of your friends’

Sugar-coated lies that never fail

To charm you.

Really, is sugar that important

To you in life?

Doesn’t it cause decay and rot,

In its wake?

A bit of bitterness

Won’t harm you.

Rather, it will help you see,

The harsh reality of life.

So come on, wake up,

Chuck your sugars out of the window,

For sometimes, it is better to be bitter,

Than regret for believing in sugary lies.

In response to Mara Eastern’s sweet Poetry 101 Rehab.

Final Masquerade

Hiding behind a façade,

Of artificial smiles,

Understanding eyes,

Changing myself drastically.

I’m sick of this feeling

Of altering my thoughts,

But I cannot gather courage,

To rip of my mask.

No!

I shall not wear this mask anymore!

I shall show my true face!

I’ll be the best I can be!

An this will be my final masquerade!

No!

I won’t pretend!

I won’t flatter the world anymore!

I shall be who I want to be!

And this will be my final masquerade!

Inspired strongly by Given Up and Final Masquerade by Linkin Park and Mara Eastern Poetry 101 Rehab.