A bleeding heart
A bleeding mind
Worn boldly on my sleeve
The mask still hides all
Nobody cares to see underneath
Nobody seems to hear my pleas
Crying in silence
Tears falling in darkness
Weeping brings anger to others
Though I’m not sure why
So the mask stays
Tears leaving invisible scars
Untraceable self-harm
The world turns a blind eye
Fear takes control
Turns sorrow into paranoia
Am I cursed
Am I the problem
How do I remove the problem
Would others even notice
Should I remove the problem
They still can’t see beyond the mask
While my heart hemorrhages
Both sleeves permanently stained
Blatant, obvious
Wordless suffering
Endless torment
Can nobody see past the facade
My lies of happiness
My dishonest joy
Thousands of fraudulent smiles
To keep others pleasant
So they could never know my true pain
Though I desire for them to dig deeper
A constant conundrum
Of what I think I want
And what I’m not sure of
An exhausting battle
All behind the lighthearted mask
Except my heart
My bleeding heart
Sliced with depression and uncertainty
Blackened by hatred of self
Thickened with envy and lust
For the life I see in others
The grass is greener on the other side
While I forever drown in woe
Brought on by my own misery
I am aware
I am so painfully aware
Of what I do to myself
And yet…
I cannot break the cycle
I’m a poison, a lethal toxin
Killing those around me
Behind this mask filled with laughter
How can they realize it’s me
Nobody suspects what they deem as
The good person
But I will always know
Of who I truly am inside
A mendacious thief of life
A dedicated torturer of self
And a perfect butcher of emotions


Sword (Flash Fiction)

The young maiden gasped, amber eyes wide. Her lips trembled as she looked down at the sword sticking through her chest. Then she lifted her gaze to her attacker. It was none other than her lifelong friend. They had grown together, cried together, laughed together. Fell in love together. The person she trusted most. While it was true that Anne was considered nothing more than a handmaiden to the rest of the castle, Princess Marie called her sister.

The heir to the throne blinked as she felt her blood running down the front of her gown. “Why?”

Anne gritted her teeth, holding the sword in place. “You know why!”

Tears ran down Marie’s cheeks. “I-I don’t.” She gasped for air at this point.

Despite herself, tears welled up in the handmaiden’s eyes. Seeing her friend in such a pained state. But she persisted. “Yes, you do. You sent John to his death. We were going to be married.”

The princess’s eyes fluttered, and she struggled to remain balanced. “I always supported you and John. I don’t, I don’t have that kind of…authority.”

Anne’s expression twitched. It was true that the princess did not have the ability to carry out executions. “But…but–” She cut herself off, looking down at the cold stone floor. “They talked. They all said you wanted him dead. That you begged your father…”

Marie swallowed, though trickles of blood came out the corners of her mouth. “No, Anne.” She choked. “You, you have been blinded.” A short breath. “Fooled.”

The handmaiden’s mouth opened and closed. Yet, no words came. Her dark eyes searched her sister. “Marie…”

The royal heir struggled. “I thought…I thought you trusted me. I trusted you.” A final breath escaped her, and the last thing she saw was her lifelong friend weeping. Her eyes finally fluttered close. She didn’t know what had caused this confusion in Anne, but she knew one thing before her death. It was not the sword that cut her heart.


Second Chances

What would we give to have a second chance? To say the things we should’ve said and taken back what we shouldn’t have? What would we give to use our time more wisely? To make that visit or call? To not be inconvenienced by selfish needs? In truth, we never know what we would give until all is lost. We never stop and think about those we know. We refuse to share our lives until it’s too late. And then what? We’re filled with sorrow, dread. Filled with regret and hate for ourselves. All we can do is sit and contemplate what we could’ve done, what we should’ve done. But no. We were too busy living our own lives. We don’t have time for that distant family member or friend. We lie to ourselves. Tell ourselves they should’ve reached out first. Did we ever stop to think they were telling themselves the same thing? Did we ever stop to think about them at all? No. Of course not. And even if we did, it was a fleeting moment that quickly passed. We never made that call or visit. Though we deceived ourselves we would. We never took back the wrong things we said, never said the right things. Not all of us get a second chance. For some of us, the time with someone has passed. We’ll never get to feel that hug or see that smile. We’ll never get to see their eyes light up when they’re happy or darken when they’re upset. We’ll never get to hear their voice, hear that laugh. All we hear is silence. All we see is a stone marking what could’ve been and what will never be. All we feel is loss and depression. All we realize now is that we were too late. And all we can wonder is what we would’ve given to have that second chance.

In memory of the ones we’ve lost. And perhaps, the ones we can still save.