She doesn’t know, they say,

Then the evil, debilitating laughter,

Followed by a wicked smirk.

I do know, I say.

Then I go trail the woods,

Looking for that furtive moment,

When a larva dares to become a butterfly,

I kiss it gently and whisper in its ears,

Fly high my precious little darling,

Do not let your fragile wings stop you.

So I do know, I say,

But not the way you know this world.


Holding Up


The silence of the night

Cannot quell the revolt in my mind!

Restrained tears,

Muffled Sobs,

A numb tongue,

They all speak of a deferred rebellion.

For now, they help delay a scream.

But be aware, for the night shall pass,

Light will fall on your lies,

And my sobs shall become a scream.

It’ll haunt you

And your entire being, even in the light of the day.

It will come after you—

You whose ideology knows—

Nothing but to kill!

Be afraid.


After the scream,

The voice won’t be just mine.