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Day Seven: Excuses

Is distance your only excuse?
Years have passed,
You still haven't visited,
And now I don't even remember your face.

Time and Time again,
You claim to miss us.
"I'm too busy"
"The flight ticket is too expensive"
"I don't have a vacation now..."
Seem to be your only reasonings.

Your voice, in my memory,
Is now only heard through the static of a phone call.
I don't remember what your personality is like,
Or why you made me laugh at all.

Who are you?
Do I even know you anymore?
Your excuses are all I remember now.



– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Undead Diaries

Day Six: On The Impact Of Words

The power of a few words is beyond the understanding of many, as one would often find it hard to believe that something we use so freely could bear so much power.

More often than not, We see these words flow with our lives, being the tool we use to communicate and express our feelings, both to ourselves and people around the world.

Yet it also seems that we often forget the power we yield, as ceaseless arguments and constant manipulation from those around us cast a dark shadow over the usage of these very words we unknowingly hold so dear.

One would be a hypocrite even to dare chastise another for misusing these words.

I have seen (but never truly experienced) a few simple words that are very commonly used and ones that we do not give even a second thought to, be arranged in a certain order and spoken in a certain tone to other people, and have watched it both make and break a person.

That’s the power words have. They can make you live a hundred years or kill you in a second.

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Arsh

Stages of revenge

It stings. 
Frustrated tears pool at my eyes, 
Unable to do anything else.

It simmers.
Darkened eyes look away as
Yet another bribe takes place right under the noses of those
Who were once trusted to protect us.

It burns.
Knuckles are bleeding,
Pummeling the punching bag as though
It would chase all problems away.

It boils over.
Knives stick out of those
Who once dared to take advantage of our innocence
Leaving behind empty puppets.

It's empty.
But maybe this emptiness
Will herald better days.

– Arsh

Posted on by Arsh

Sun and Moon

Cross my heart and hope to die,
My battles seem to shut you down.
I never meant to leave you hurting,
Yet all our tears seem so redundant.

Our priorities were never the same,
It took me breaking to even notice.
I watch for success, you wait for love,
And neither of us will compromise.

You are the sun, I am the moon,
We cannot live without each other.
I chase for you, You chase for me,
Yet our different lives means we never see.

– Arsh

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Day Two: All Grown Up Now

Oh what of that laughing child,
One which danced its days by,
One that sang of tales anew,
One that's fails meant it "grew".

And of the fun it had?
Gone with the wind, that.
What did it think it knew,
Was it leading an unknown crew?

I asked that laughing child one day,
Who smiled at me in dismay.
That one sentence, it said,
Might make you think it was dead.

"I grew up, as did you."

– Maya Desdemona

Posted on by Arsh

You and Me

I have always missed you,
But even if Fate deemed it so,
I would never go back to you.

I long for the ease 
That being with you,
Has always given me.

Yet I would cut off my arm,
Before I reached out to you,
To help soothe me.

It didn't have to end this way,
Yet it's the only way this could have ended,
You and me, as parallel lines,
Parallel lives.

– Arsh

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Day One: On Leaving A Home


For it felt, as if
The windmills sensed my sorrow,
The trees faked a smile upon my departure,
And the mountains held me by their hands and begged me to stay.

But every bird must leave the nest it calls home.
The wind bid me adieu with a gentle breeze,
The grazing cattle nodded along in understanding,
And fields swayed along to the breeze blowing past them.

A certain beauty about one's home,
Is that even a ray of sunshine can make an unforgettable memory.

A small drizzle comes my way,
Upset that I was leaving but wishing me safe travels ahead.

A silent promise was made that day, to never forget,
My nest, my paradise, my home.

Wistful goodbyes are left on a joyful note,
So one may have happy travels ahead,
But even the sky was a paler shade of blue that day.

The plains and woodlands around me stretch far into the horizon,
Which leaves me wishing I had stayed around longer.

It was ironic, truly.
Everyone wishes to leave the nest they call home when they are in it, yet when it is, indeed, time to go, leaving is the single hardest thing to to.

I pass by a field of daffodils in full bloom,
However, they too seemed to be upset with my departure,
Their heads dipped low.

A small stream follows me beside the road,
A welcoming sight in a sea of concrete.

As I kept going further away from my paradise, the scenery was getting desperate.
The mountains looked misty and foreboding.
The wind started getting desperate.
A gentle drizzle turned into a storm.

Fog and mist started forming around tree plantations.
Soon, I entered unknown land,
And all the trees of fire that I had passed had soon faded into withering corpses of a land once known as a jungle.

Yet now, the mighty jungle that once ruled this foreign land had been reduced to a pile of cement and people.
I still live in this pile to this day,
With only the occasional glance back home.

– Maya Desdemona