Mulindee

The world is so empty without you in it. Everything that I cared for and held dear, disappeared when you fled. So long you spent, living a lie, letting me think I was enough for you, only to leave me there in the dark, wondering where all the light in my life went. You're not the first one to pick up and leave, many others have come and gone before you. But you're different, because I gave you my heart, and you never gave it back. You shattered it, into a million pieces with your lies, your cruelty, and your selfishness. You stole my heart, and broke it. You now remind me of why I hate others so, you embody just as much greed as they do. I c

I woke to darkness, opening my eyes and seeing nothing but the endless black abyss that enveloped me. I shivered as the cold air blew past my naked and cut up legs. Still in chains, my arms fought to rid themselves of the decrepit metal that jailed me to this rotting wall. Screams echoed through the door as it opened slightly and let a small patch of candle light into my dark prison. I saw a shadow enter, but nothing more. My malnourishment and deteriorated physical state made it nigh impossible for me to see, especially in such poor light. But when the shadow spoke, I knew who had entered my chamber…. "Ji'unemm," He whispered softly.

What am I, if not a vessel for your hatred? A messenger. A cage. A guardian of dark feelings that you choose not to share with others. Only with family. Only with me. What am I, if not an image of what you wish was, but isn't? A painting. Art. A piece of clay so carefully sculpted into what you want others to see. Projected images. Projected feelings. What am I, if not a cruel joke the world has played on you? Karma. A mistake. Something your morals compelled you to keep. Guilt. Obligation. What am I, if not your daughter? A girl? A woman? A broken human being who spent her entire life in your servitude. Working so hard to please you. to pro

The idea. We fear and revere it. A void of creativity is frowned upon, but to embrace an idea is hazardous, as so many artists let it completely consume them. They accept it into their lives, and let it plague the existence around them. The fabric of their reality twists and alters for their new perspective, creating a projected image that walks a fine line between fantasy and truth. This forces people to question powers outside of their medium, as not every aspect of this new view is controllable. The idea of power is so dastardly popular, distorted, and misunderstood, misinterpreted to the point where respect and fear are no l

Hiding We often spend our entire lives trying to find ourselves, looking for that one piece of our heart we forgot about, that feeling we hadn't known since we were little. Some of us don't realize, that so much of us is hidden from ourselves. It is human nature to wear a mask, to hide so much of what we know and feel. Some do it to create conversation. Others lie for their own amusement. For many, it's an unconscious act. Hiding has become an occupation, a way of life. Expression is such a crime, to the point where people begin to destroy themselves to become what others desire. What kind of twisted lives do we live? How m

Human Nature The human being is devious. It is clever. It is constantly coming up with ever more imaginative ways to beat you. The human being is fearful. It is cautious. It is keeping track of every move it feels the need to follow: whether it be your train of thought, or a path you are taking through an area it does not know. The unknown scares it. It would much rather take the path that others have done before, than the path that no one has tried. Some are adventurous. They crave the sense of wonder they once had as children. Only to realize years later, that as the world is explained to them, its wonder slowly fades. The h

Thriving When I look at the world, I see a flower, a blossom, blooming full of wonder, of colour of sweet innocent brilliance. A bright and lovely sight that never ceases to amaze. Yet I can't help but wonder... as every rose has a defense full of thorns, does this flower have an arsenal just as vicious? Why am I afraid? of a flower... a beautiful thing that brings such joy to all of us. Shaking, my fingers reach out towards the plant I reach the petals, I feel nothing. My hands caress the softness, bringing a smile to my tear stained face. I go deeper, to the leaves beneath the soft petals. Though they are rougher, str