Another Cheesy Love Letter

Your imperfections are my perfections.
Your flaws are the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.

A master piece.

A puzzle that creates the beauty that you do not wish to see.

I wish you could see.

I wish you knew

How happy you make me

And sad.

You haven’t the slightest idea of how beautiful you are.

Your face.

Your heart.

Your body and soul.

I wish I had the strength to prove, how every molecule in you is like it has been hand picked by God himself, to create this complex beauty.




The word that sums you up as a whole.

The word that occupies my mind whenever you’re in it.

I wish this was a different time, in a different state of mind.

Where I still had my mind.

I sewed my armor on my skin. 

And I wish I could rip it off for you.

Because you are, and will always be worth every scar.


I cease to exist in between these hours.

The numbness.

The emptiness.

The void.

How can they all exist in me instead of life?

Whats the purpose of all of this?

Whats the purpose of existing?

Is it to find the things that break us, and let them?

To learn?

To grow stronger?

What then?

You’re left as a strong, broken human being.

Wheres the purpose in that? 

Why must things break, in order to learn and be strong.

Why must we suffocate in our own tears, just to feel the burden of the whole world.

Wheres the purpose in that?


Believing in a higher power.

Praying to be strong, just to take in the punches that eventually break us.

Pieces left shattered all over, and we struggle to put them back to where they belong.

We don’t even know our own bodies.

How we work.

How we function.

We’re so oblivious to the extent that, we need strangers telling us what to do with ourselves.

With our own flesh and blood.

Wheres the purpose in that?

We were made to be broken.

We were brought into this life, with crying as the first sound to ever leave our lips.

Wheres the purpose of your mother holding you, comforting you, if she knows that you will eventually be broken just like her and the rest of the world.

Why use comfort to soften us, just so we could receive more punches.

Yes, I am still breathing.

But wheres the purpose in that.

The Longing

The devil is in the details, and so is love.
The emptiness fills the void, while the head is full of words.

Words I cannot express.

Words I cannot confess.

The weary eyes filled with regret.

Whats lost will always be lost.

With it, the purity of the love she gave.

The nurture, the care that makes a soul revive.

Will I find it again 

Will it be true again

The fear that fills the heart, if the future repeats the past.

The mind playing the usual tricks, to ruin what beholds the eyes. 

I long for the innocence 

I long for the light

I long for the thrill

I long for you in the dark

I long for the suffocation of your kiss

I long for the burning that touched my skin

The collision of the heart and the mind.

The greatest battle in the history of time.

Ghosts that live within these walls

Whisper stories when the night falls 

You have lost your soul

You have lost your mind

You have lost your pureness

You have lost your light

I long for 

I long for



An empty soul with a heavy heart
Walking with the sole purpose to leave this hurt

Screaming lungs but no vocal cords

Begging and praying to the one and only lord

Take away the sharpness

Take away the fire

Take away the glasses

I have no desire

Bring back the interest of a wide eyed child

The days where we ran free and wild

Tell me my mother had a plan

On all those nights she ran 

Tell me those stories were real

And its not just another ordeal

Cough cough

Is that you mom ?

Bang bang

Did he send you home ?

Heaven is where you belong

For all those days you struggled alone 

My wish is for you to find peace 

On this world where love is the least 

Like mother like daughter

You gave birth to a fighter 

Don’t worry about where i’ll be

Its in those skies where i’ll be free


How is it possible to ask for help when no one is willing to pick up their phone ?

I have come to a conclusion that, when you smash something, it breaks.

It also creates a hole in the object it smashes into.

I am a supermassive black hole walking on this earth.

I shouldn’t have let so many things smash into me.

Im oblivious to the misery I’m creating inside of me. 

The act of kindness has no limits in me.

When must I learn that the world is cruel?

When must I learn that the energy I throw into the universe won’t be repaid?

When must I learn that I am a mere structure of flesh and bones?

When must I learn that I bleed like any living creature?

Its no ones fault but mine. 

My father’s.

My mother’s.

People aren’t built to handle a fragile mess with cutting edges. 

People aren’t built to be dependent on one another.

When must I learn.


Books hiding under places I never knew existed.

Poverty occupying the souls of the innocent and the neglected.

Mystery in the way she moves, and how she perfects it. 

How can you deny the beauty, and how she projects it ?





All words that make us relate.





How can you make us compensate ?

A world filled with tangible history.

Yet you sit and think so bitterly.

Free your mind from hate and misery. 

Feel it in the breeze, thats the taste of integrity.


I call Wednesdays, relapse day.
I started naming them that way once it became a pattern.

But I guess its better than it consuming you on a daily basis, no ?

Once a week is considered an upgrade. 

But that “once” lasts for 4 days sometimes. 

The green, white, and pink don’t help much at this point. 

The triggers creep up on you in the most innocent of forms. 

Things you think you’ll get lost in.

But end up losing it. 

I haven’t heard the voices for a month now.

This is the first time admitting that they exist. 

Once you say something out loud, once you write them down, they become concrete.

And thats what scared me.

I don’t want this to be real. 

Which led to my breakdown. 

What is real ?

What is there ?

What was said last night ?

Was it a dream or reality ?

Is this my endless nightmare ?

Wake up.

Pinch me.

I’m trying to keep the brave face. 

I promise.

I know you always want me to be the strong kid you always remember.

But it gets heavy sometimes.

And I’m sorry for that, mom.

I’m sorry I’m not as strong as I used to be.

I’m trying to kill the voices before they kill me.

I’m trying to wake up from this deep stupor my mind put me in.

I’m so scared.

I’m scared and I feel so alone.

But on relapse day, I give up.

My head will be the death of me.