Lock me in their cage of dreams.
Sleep now little one,
Let the flowers take you home.
A home nestled in the leaves.
Thoughts can not take me,
Only a willing heart can.
Like a mother’s child,
Awaiting the song of love.
A passion brighter than suns.
Arguments flaring with no real fuel, setting alight figurative buildings for the sake of ones enjoyment. The opponents coming with a spread of answers and questions to throw in her direction. Alas, my Queen, she may fall this time if her sharp tongue does not sneer in the right way, or if her words are mellowed and empty. My fair Queen, do not revel in glory that may not last, for bickering is a win not stable to gloat about. Your downfall may come a second away, or might have happened without you announcing it; for your mouth only shall speak of victories. My Queen, do not stumble, get back up and bite them all with your snarky manners and toxic ways that speak in vain. My Queen, one of triumphs, deceives those against her, forcing them to chose the lower path and fall into her shadow. The feminine ruler known for her pain infliction, the satanic angel who dances a dance of madness, the Queen of arguments.
In 2019, I discovered what is now one of my dearest hobbies; jewellery making. Particularly earrings. I have always relished adding something uniquely me to what I wear, and being able to create even the smallest thing, through my eyes, is wonderful. I feel that my inner thoughts and feelings can be so easily expressed in a piece of jewellery, that a finished product clears my mind and sets me up for anything. It seems to boost my confidence to have on a little piece of my work to show the world. The process takes effort, but none and the same time. It challenges creativity while also allowing the mind to take a break and the heart to do the work. Yes, it may sound like the cheesiest thing ever said about earrings, sometimes the cheesiest things are the most meaningful, and sometimes the smallest touches mean a lot more than you would think.
Wondering about what could of been,
Living what I wonder.
The bars that keep me out of harm,
While crushing what defence I have.
Rhythmic clanks and metallic tastes,
Wrap me in their cold clutches.
Clammy fingers blocking vision, taking away a world that could have been.
I want to be here,
But my wandering mind won’t,
I try but can’t stay.
Talking, but the words I utter dissolve before making an impact.
Singing, but my melodies are background noise, not payed attention to.
Crying, but emotion doesn’t slice into the hearts of onlookers; instead, they watch on as though my pain were merely an ant on a leaf.
Dancing, but my feet are numb, stepping in a rhythmic yet dull patter; a pattern that goes over and over and over again.
Writing, but the words inked on my paper reach no one, my extracts of the world I perceive being cut off from other views.
Wishing, but with no way of carving them into my every day.
Hoping, but not being able to hope properly.