Ballad Poems (504)

I wish I was you, someone once said, I said, I wish I was you too, for all of my troubles would be gone away, for you to take, I would forsake, but I never knew, what you had been through, can we renegotiate this pact of ours? I'm willing to spend hours and hours, I'm sorry I wished, I did not know, my life was happy,,, can we make it so?

Nnnnnn

Did you sacrifice today for what you could have lived with?, did you lose a part of you just because it did not fit? Is it worth it all to end it all to begin with?,, tomorrow is a day that we dont know, could be an existance , a show,, never wonder why its as its is,,, it just is,,, and you can never be all that you can be,,, do you see?

I met her yesterday, I asked for a picture I got one eye, no body shot, nothing, but that eye that looked into my soul, and now, yesterday has turned into years, she dispelled my fears, she made me the man i wanted to be, someone I could be proud of for someone to see, now I am real, now I can feel, she is my wonderful entity, that I will love for eternity!

Silent whispers of gas
Rises from caverns deep
Hints of smoke and steam
Ground pushed gravity rise from ash - heat and smoke flames from
Within caverns deep
Rising magma flow blows smoke and ash
Rivers flow like hot mooltan flames rising as water flows from deep
Tesions rise as hot melts the surface gravity falls and flows cascades it downward flow to oceans deep

I'm searching for the sound
That keeps me bound
To find the key
To set me free-
As the bird flies
With fractured wings
Flying low
High, listen
The sound
Can't that bird sing?

As we all aim for the last fall
What do we recall-- This sound?

A choice of words
The sound of what we often heard
The key is near
And, as of what do we fear?-
The bird on the ground
The bird knows why
As it looks up towards the skies-
Lying down- on the mound
The sound
Can a bird cry?

As we all take our last stall
What should we call-- This sound?

I've found the sound
That kept me bound
I've found the key, finally
That sets me free-
Above the bird flies high
With fractured wings-
Listen, low
The sound
Can't that bird sing!?

As we all ascend to feel tall
Remember what we call- This sound

I wish I had my rose-coloured glasses,
so I could see the colours of your optimism.
You say we can be stronger than our painful wounds.
Maybe it's true.
Maybe I could play the same role again too.

I could love and get myself hurt,
all over again,
and survive through each rejection,
getting by after mind games
from every conniving player,
standing tall after the most familiar...
...sense of abandonment.

Yes, I can.
In fact, I've done that often.
I have no doubts over my own perseverance.
Remember, I've been so good at being alone.

For too long,
I've stopped with all the expectations.
I'm a lone warrior.
I've treated my own wounds,
by making myself feel numb.

I know I've been strong enough,
but what if I've grown tired?
What if I'm fed up with playing the same damn role?

R.

The dawn isn't close enough,
yet I am jolted awake
from a dream that felt
like a time machine,
throwing me back to the past, so mean.

Who has resurrected
this silly girl I once was?
I thought I'd left her buried,
dead and forgotten in the past.
Now her restless spirit has returned,
trying to take over
this same old body, heart, and soul,
if possible, swallowing me whole.

The current me is struggling
to keeps what's been mine all along.
Still, she is so damn stubborn,
demanding that she too stay in the present.
I wouldn't be having this breakdown
if she weren't carrying you in her mind.

This is not the time
to let her stick around.
Perhaps I must exorcise her again,
before she starts giving me a lot more
than this nonsensical, 3 a.m. breakdown…

R.

They all say the same cliché:
“It's better to have loved than none at all.”
Our story had been short and not worth it,
yet I've been cursed with this ability;
this giant elephant memory.

Let's be selective?
Some advice to give.
It's been two years since you said you wanted to be
with no one else but me
until I realized I wasn't the only.
Oh, I had never been.

The story didn't just end there;
like some typical, cheesy rom-com plots
before the leading lady finally deserved
the prince charming she'd eventually get.
In this department, my storyline's been bleak,
‘though I still refuse to let myself get weak.

You were the monster with a handsome mask.
That must've been an exhausting task.
I was glad the truth was finally out,
as you ran off, ghosted me like a coward.

It's been a year since I heard my own version of happy-ending:
You're finally in prison.
Yay!
I felt so sorry about your youngest victims
who had probably known no concept of ‘consent'
when you chose to force her, leaving permanent scars.

I was off the hook;
probably the smallest casualty in your betrayal and wickedness,
but I guess I'm still dealing with my own hurt,
because the idea of starting over…
…is still as scary as the possibility…
…of facing another monster…

Our short, fabricated love story has never been worth remembering,
but I still can't erase it – so it's been permanently written,
a vivid reminder of my past failure
and why I glare at romance with cynicism…

R.
(Jakarta, October 1, 2020)