Chasm

Reaping my soul using the sickle of life 

Dark to light, death is the sequel of life 

My heart is a black hole’s mass with a prickle of smile 

Oh the growth has been synonymous to a trickle of spike 

In hindsight, I should’ve fine-tuned these rhymes even s’more 

Rhyming only three to five syllables or even more 

Perhaps being drowned in pain that your writing pen’s even sore 

Is a forgi___ tolerable excuse, far cry from Eden’s lore

Relief in war. 

Rear viewing the mini-me

Thought I had the best upbringing. See

that’s the best I could afford 

Farther from what I looked for 

C or D is what I would score it

Nonetheless, still I’m grateful for it

It made me a better not bitter, stronger and wiser person 

Books and life’s lessons made the process easier I’m certain

But not the pain, they didn’t take away the wounds 

Some were buried in plain, others were shedded in my renaissance. 

Adulting is eerily similar, the only hall pass is death. 

Life breaks us in, new wounds appear like they’re breath. 

We’re in an endless loop of historical causation 

Present problem is deeply rooted in the past like M.L. validation. 

Those wounds are wounds, sometimes they’re traumas 

Inquisitiveness hooked me, others hooked marijuanas. 

Some I thoroughly dealt with, few resurrect when they wanna 

Komodo dragon playing dog with a skin of iguana.

They have triggers. Maybe known or unbeknown to me and you. 

I’m broken. We’re all broken. Maybe not me and you. 

I need help. No, I got this. Maybe not. Maybe I need me and you 

To know “you’re not alone”. We’re in this together me and you.