Oh atlas, how do you bear the weight of the world
when the weight of my own proves too much to hold
though the scars which run along my heart
match those across your shoulder.
My torment broadcast within the conciliations
with Taurus and Capricorn
frustrations
Libra's balance is unachievable;
scorn of the devil and the worship of-
nothing but the hurt of this relationship.
For the stars she wishes me to grab
sit up above the world so high,
Yet these diamonds are a fallacy
Boundaries and restrictions,
a travesty,
while I strive to just be me,
falling hard yet graciously,
falling with style.
As daunting as the frontier of space
yet grounded by this ball and-
chain of my denial
fallen hands separate our embrace.
Yet I still yearn for your touch,
the love and acceptance held within your palm
clutched tightly in your grasp,
foreign to my skin.
Though I will not beg for it,
for if you don’t wish to give me your blessing
then blessed I will be without your sympathy,
though this weakness is only temporary,
This choice is yours,
but if you do not wish to see-
me off, then I will sail the seas without it.
Though I do thank you,
I thank you for the lessons learned
through the punishments I never earned,
the isolation upon me,
strength in solidarity
I owe to you my immorality,
my pragmatic brutality,
a pirate of the seven seas
following my instinct undoubtedly.
A sanctuary that I will never know,
this house, a broken home
although the only emotions shown,
hostility and hate between us both.
Raising our voices to match our tempers
yet I cannot scream loud enough
to block out your crushing words,
slithering like snakes,
weaving and crawling,
contorting,
their venom passes through me
as if capillary,
and despite my now spilled green blood
the tears that roll over my cheeks
prove that blood is not thicker than water.
Your words loop and loop around my neck,
forming the noose of my demise,
while my eyes
realise
the lies
contrived by your sharp tongue.
Tighter and tighter it entwines,
as if to lie in between the lines,
while the paths of my destiny combine,
Strangled by my own umbilical cord.
But now I cut away these binds,
running my blade along these shackles
untying my hands to reach
for the stars on my own accord,
treading on the fresh grass of uncertainty,
as the cool dew falls upon my feet,
and as the path forms below me
marching to my own beat
I overflow with joy just to be free.
Although this journey has uncertainty,
I am certain of my own being
to overcome conceding
in this face of darkness.
For I am the light
in this tunnel of life,
I need no guide,
this path I have chosen
from the waves of the coast
to the desolate desert,
where the sand flows
and nothing grows,
but the thorns of cacti
my sides already know.
I will be the first rose
to rise from these barren lands,
to strive in this destruction
and to soar like the phoenix,
rebirth within the ashes
of my adolescence.
Mother dearest can’t you see
that you can no longer hypnotise me,
the allure of the world
is much too great,
it’s mesmerising qualities I cannot escape.
For the city lights shine bright,
brighter than any shadow
you could cast, any blight;
brighter than the halo of your lord
and louder than the chords struck
by the angels you falsely stand among.
However now the time has come
for our paths to split,
to quit the deceit of this,
yet to dismiss each other is not it
as we are accomplices in this game,
our commitment too strong.
For you are my driving force
and you alone make me desire more,
not for the good of my own
but in the spite of yours.
Oh mother so egotistical,
don't think I would cut my wrist
to inconvenience you,
it would not be a consequence
of your trauma
although you try
your hardest to invoke drama
but you will not succeed.
For I will reach higher than you could imagine,
the tangibility of my own achievements,
above the possibility of your pathetic attempts.
Because dear mother I hate you,
though do not hold it in your merit,
I do not hate you for who you are,
I hate you for who I am not.
I will not inherit these traits
even if we share the same blood
because dear mother mentally we are paradoxical
and I will not succumb
to the toxic rhythms of your frozen heart.
This nest no longer nurtures,
my clipped wings yearn for the wind to surround them,
to be elevated, replicant of my spirit,
negligent of physical restrictions
for my beliefs know no bindings.
Let me fall,
I beg you let me fall
lower than I have ever been
so that I may grow
in a world I have never seen,
An education from my own decisions,
my own mistakes,
free from parental supervision,
free from your rules which have become my prison
and maybe then will I truly learn to fly,
spreading my wings in complete freedom,
unbeaten by the harsh reality of this world.
I am upon the final leg of my childhood
and as the cliff accelerates towards me
I beg that the catcher not catch me now
nor that the rye of which I am so eager to escape
snatch at my heels to disrupt my fate.
The taste of liberty upon my lips,
a synergy of senses,
now that I am so close to the peak,
but still so far from the sharp rocks
of which I aim to brush my cheeks against,
to mock the formation of these stalagmites
within this cavern of depression.
These repressed echoes haunt,
the ridicule overrules
with a hopeful taunt towards
the memories of the life I once knew.
To break free of expectations,
for the only things I expect of me
is to develop independently, able to define
the sin of which the morals of you and mine,
restricted to the confines of my skull yet
eternally lost within the maze that is my mind.
But now I'm Homesick for a place that I will never know
trapped in a house where I can never grow,
grow to be a futuristic visionary as
if to see lies sowed upon the soil
restrained fertility of my sealed fate.
My legs pain from the climb of this summit,
as if I would never Ever-rest
exhausted from this quest
simply seeking love.
Submerged beneath the crests and depths
anchors attached, my life entrapped,
sunken below the to and fro,
the white water current carrying my heavy burden,
conformed to the ebb and flow,
a revolving cycle of high and low,
for I simply dream that one day it may plateau,
the nauseating repetition of my existence,
the nauseating repetition of my existence,
the nauseating repetition of my existence,
the nauseating repetition of my existence,
the nauseating repetition of my existence.
