Are you a burnt little matchstick?
Struck against scraping sandpaper
Till you shine bright enough to be a star,
But the joy of being enough is robbed by the end, without going far.
Burnt, crippled, broken, and used,
Now showing no more potential nor promise,
You are thrown away by the world,
Tossed in a pile without a thought,
The light you brought, they forgot,
So they have simply left you to rot.
-Maya Desdemona
The delicate peace promised to us by the leaders of the world hangs on a balance that tilts steadily towards the rough, violent arms of war. The modern day and age, the one that promised this peace and progress, has seemingly forgotten the many suffering souls around the world, still oppressed, still denied their basic human rights. It is our duty, as citizens of our respective countries, and as individuals living in this world, to brighten this world for all those in it, to leave it a better place than when we entered it, and above all, to seek justice and recompense for those wronged by the powerful voices of this world.
– Maya Desdemona
Fret not, little child,
The monsters under your bed are long gone,
The next monsters you must fear
Lurk within the minds of men.
It enslaves their heart,
And lives off their soul,
Construing their figures beyond recognition.
Turning them into a shell of their former person.
Fret not, little child,
Such monsters are a part of life,
They live within us all and live all too well,
For why else would poets of old admire your innocence,
Your childlike wonder, lost to the seas of time?
– Maya Desdemona
Luminousis 