AUXUS

Everybody's in a deep slumber

But she stood there

Alone and crying for help.

She listened to everyone's despair

But who will hear her woes?

She was there to dry their tears

But who will come and wipe hers?

She never chose to leave,

For to her, it will never be a choice

But who will really stay with her?

No one. Not even one.

So she wiped her tears,

Stared at her reflection in the mirror

And for the last time, she whispered,

"You're beautiful."

A silent scream came.

Blood gushing from the cut she made.

Moments later, she'll be found dead.

But no amount of tears or regret

I rode the train to the city

Met my friends and bought some booze

Drank it all the way down

Hopped from bar to bar

Nothing to lose and nothing to gain

My empty heart is never filled

They always laughed and talked

I always stayed silent like I always do.

“Have you always been miserable, dude?

Nothing beats the sadness around you

But who cares about what’s in your head

We’re in a bar full and nobody’s sad.”

I remember nobody cares

Nobody cared if I’m annoyed,

I always spit expletives

and mouthful of sad truths.

I guess I’ll always be alone

In this den full of people

Under the influence

You must be feeling down now miserable. I know you had encountered lots of sleepless nights in your empty room; in the dark room - where you stand in silence all day. Your heart is longing for more and at the same time, fearing for what you are going to hear- going to hear from anyone everyone. You’ll probably hate my reasons for talking to you and hate me more when I pay you a visit. But, that’s okay. There are many people more than you can ever count that feel the same way that you do. I assure you. They have no one to talk to, no one to lean on and probably always ask themselves what they will do if there’s nothing left for them: the world, the people, their family and their friends. And you, you are perhaps thinking that everyone must’ve left you by now. Well, hear me out. You should not worry because everyone might leave you except me. Trust me, I won’t. I will never leave you alone. And in case, when the time comes that you want to see me again, you just have to let me get into your head.

All that I know has already faded, I have watched all of them went down to a sink, as everything in my distant world ended.

My lingering question is, am I now dead? But I can still hear myself breathing with air. Yet, why this feels like my own very deathbed?

The world did not even try to leave my dread, the one whom made me awake at the late nights, haunting me ‘til all I am seeing is red.

Now, all I hear is the things I never said. They kept on repeating, now that I lay on once where my home stood, now all a barren land.

I’m now a person who is alive yet dead. Suffering from losing reasons of living, but what’s is worse is, I am not even sad.

Things I have done are sins in everyone’s eyes. I have murder someone and slit my wrist. Steal lots of things and convey bunch of lies.

In this world, I am nothing but a misfit. As I’ve expected since I have become like this, people treat me akin to some piece of shit.

If they think I am guilty, they judge amiss. They tell me things to do and I’d be pardoned. Disgrace to cursed wounds that forever dehisce.

Sins and failures are my trophies that I wear. For life’s a fight, and death is nothing I’d care.

I hope it will for I’m having a hard time absorbing all the shits this life is collecting.

One Thanksgiving, we got drunk in Miggy’s place. His horrible family left him again to take care of Rex, their ugly dog. They yearly went to Michigan and used the dying-Grandma alibi to Miggy for thirteen years. A Grandma whom Miggy never met because he was either left in charge to their house or to the lucky animal, Rex.

Peter - He loved his family so much. For several years we planned having a night out, he always used his family as his excuse. Which is not cool but an acceptable reason. He’s the good guy among us. But not this time, he was the one who bought our beers and cigars. He’s now cool, I thought.

Harold and I would go to any night out of ours. We only have, or should I say considered, our friends as our only family. Harold’s father died when he was four and his mother, a year after that, left him wandering alone into the woods. As if saying, “Get lost!” Since then, he had no idea where his mother and siblings were. He had lost his real family together with his feelings for them.

I want to do it quickly. Not with all the thought and talk. Not with poison or with knife. Not with pills.

I want to end it vigorously. Shoot a bullet on my head. Jump off any tall building, Or put a grenade on my stomach.

Pain makes a cruel life. So, end the pain. But, life is the pain. So, end the life. A matter of guts is needed. ~ To face the mother of death.

You’re used to be called a wallflower. You stayed on the sidelines, watching at the events which transpired, idle. You were contented to be the audience, breathing in the thrill without getting involved.

You’re used to be called a loser. You did things to win in mind but life had other plans for you. You felt defeated most of the time. You were tired of being tired.

You’re used to them.

You used to be...until you finally took a stand. 

The once coward became a brave soul, taking head on the rocks thrown at you by life, breaking them piece by piece, not minding the bruises inflicted. A goal was all on your mind, breaking the barriers.

The once wallflower became an active person, engaging in the complexities of society. Lessons were learned through hard ways, for the basic principle thought was that there’s no easy thing in the world. You’ve got to persevere and dig in the bottomless pit of introspection for self-awareness was a principle you leaned on.

The once loser became a winner, a modest entity who shove all the mockery and embraced the criticisms. Perfection was a far-fetched dream yet it remained the dream you wanted to attain someday despite being impossible.

It all began with a single step.

Is it my fault? That instead of clinging onto anything that's left of what we used to be, I let go and try to just love myself instead?

Is it selfishness? That instead of dealing with the what ifs and could have beens, I focused on how to move forward and try to better myself?

Is it cowardice? That instead of fighting for the love we have shared for years, I pick the guarantee of being able to have a grip of the remnants of my well-being than staying with you?

I knocked on the door after what happened,

thinking that it must have been tough for you.

I wanna know if you’re okay,

and you said you were.

Click

I wanna come into your room

but you wouldn’t let me in,

saying all you need is a good night’s rest.

I know failing the board exam is hard so I let you be

 Bang

My mind is still haunted by the sound of what you did,

I never thought that you would fall so hard in despair

But I failed to see the signs that you need saving

I should’ve been there for you.