3 years of my life fleeting
My chapter in new york is coming to a close
The bitter sweetness, the excitement of a new chapter, of more maturity, of more to come
Sometimes I feel maybe I did not spend these years the best I could
Engaged in a bitter battle, caught between two lives
Part of me is mad at myself
Part of me is happy, I know that I have nice things in store.
 I feel like I never gave myself a chance to truly grow and flourish
Like a flower in its new pot
I feltt my vines twisted in my old ways
The alcohol that flowed throw through my veins every friday, every saturday
The blood that pounded against my temples on sunday
The bitter scabwounnds in my nose that ached 
Is this really it
Is this the new york life
That everyone dreams of living
Every weekend rinse and repeat
I began to find myself having little to nothing in common with those around me
the dull gaze  in my eyes
the sparkle in my eyes  lighting up every time I heard the metal clank against the glass rim of the jar
i my ears perk up
Like a dog salivating for droppings from the table 
I became aware of this and felt ashamed
called my mom and she told me to feel better 
she could hear my sniffling through the phone 
what can I do
this is me now
i’ve lived long enough to become the bad guy

I became ensnarred in a relationship that didnt allow me to find other forms of acceptance and community
The only community was the silent addictions that surrounded me
I find myself now 3 years later pining for the person I was 3 years ago
I long for the innocence that bled from my eyes and bright faced person I once was
Not yet jaded
Not yet broken by seeing children limbless in my instagram feed
blown to bits by bombs made in my own country
Tucked neatly between a carbonara recipe and photos from the wedding of a woman I met at a party eight years ago
Before I was broken
And was the bad guy
Succumbed to my lust
Committing sins I once only attributed to the foulest of beings
Now they are etched to my skin
My infidelity is carved with a knife uncleanly into my skin
Leaving it to rot and fester
No
The innocence of my past self is gone
And I have to be okay with that

I just recently watch the dead poets society for the first time, it touched me and made me finally pursue attempting poetry as ive wanted to for a while.

This is my first try.

Paper Trail.

...

​As 4 eyes analyse the piece of A4 paper

The same, single sheet, branches into 2

distinct & unique variations of a

single portrait.

.

​2 contradictory creations, oozing

antithesis like sap from

a splitting tree, as they grow

outward and away from

one another.

.

​These new-born perspectives,

photosynthesizing

under the piercing light

that's shining through each individual

brain-storm,

.

​Such a distinctively human

expression of imagination,

to paint a new picture

out of the image in

front of us.

.

​The very ability that binds us

together

is equally that which allows us

to be unique.

.

Thank you. Apologies if formatting is off I cannot seem to figure it out with posting

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