Catharsis



I see it being built, in the eyes in a mirror

reflecting the house inside made by bricks,

woods, and stones replaced by

the fires of guilt. Caught in the echo

of the phrase remained unsaid,

keeping me trapped inside the burning

house that was never a home. 



Now the ashes are falling

and the the fire lines began to recede

as the rain starts to pour, washing away

the mess and turning it to a solid slate

of rock that I threw on the lake, disturbing

the calm waters, forming ripples that gradually

elevated itself from the shore, rising in itself a wave

of revenge upon the instigator.



Entangled

by wires of the thoughts like threads of silk

spindled and shaped that of a spider’s web

leaving me suspended on the ground of the

forsaken, forgotten and free. My skin

touches the angry waters like a breeze

of the wind. Weightless and unmoving

and I realized it is the water that I am breathing. 



Let out the light of obscurity against my skin,

constantly covering me as a comfort, a cushion,

a solace of embracing silence. 

 

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