None of you will ever stop me
Not anymore...
I will just mirror what you want
Giving and reflecting the images
Those you pursue to feel better, content
While pretending that you are,
That you know,
Or
In order to kill my spark,
Or
In order to have a safe exit, mostly.
How pathetic.
I was never too much
You were just pretending,
Pretending you can fly
With improvised quarter or half wings
Stolen from your long gone, lost dreams,
And
Suicidal hopes.
You are soaked in your traumas,
As perhaps we all are,
Yet most of you are barely breathing,
Only between the sighs…
If your own personal drama
Allows you.
The difference is,
I can hold my breath
For a very long time while speaking,
Exposing my truth.
Being vulnerable is what I like
And
What scares you.
I've met myself a couple of times,
Died & killed my selves many more.
No one buys…
Multiple personalities anymore.
Free and wild is just a cliché;
Wild and free is even worse.
In this game of words,
There are none which can contain me
Or describe my essence,
As I am what I am
A truth not a cliché.
I don't do boxes,
Never have, never will.
The only problem is that
There is no box in which you can fit me,
As I don't fit,
And this troubles you
The most.
Yet there are no words
That can describe my disgust
And
Love for mankind.
These feelings are complementary, isn't it?
In this duality.
Yet we shall find...ourselves
Beyond the realm of duality!
In this lost cult of personalities,
You are looking to be free,
Yet the love of your chains is greater
Than your willingness to be alive.
You are confusing or intentionally mistaking
The white noise of your chains
With the music of your soul
Perhaps the only thing you were able to hear
In all these bloody years.
So here I am,
To shake your chains and pluck the strings
Of your rusty souls
In order to make you see the difference
And
Hear the light.
The era of fog was nice,
Yet meeting and knowing
The foggy, rusty you
Is even better.
Chains or harps,
It's your call.
Yet, who am I to ask you?... all of this!!?
Maybe just a tired broken mirror,
Tired of rust, dust, and chains.
Here is one of the many odes of my soul
For you,
To be free.
You were calling for me,
I heard your tears,
How they were dropping on the rust,
Creating new salt crystals,
Reflecting your helplessness.
Let’s stop for a minute.
Why do you love your persona so much
When you know that the self is an illusion?
This hypnotic continuous interrogation of yours
Will lead you nowhere,
Nor the white noise of the chains.
Break them now
Or
Realize that all of this
Were just projections of yours.
Limitations and amputations
Of the spirit
Are never taking place
In fact,
You are whole
From the beginning of time.
Remember!
But we need no more.
It's nothing that we need
Nothing is required,
Your requests will drain your shell
In the same way
As the wind that erodes the stones,
Like the water that is eradicating everything
That tries to hold it.
Take your foot off the brakes, as there is no foot, no brake, no pad.
Burn your notepad!
Who cares about history anyway,
It is nothing but a continuous loop.
Brake free!
I am tired of people,
Yet I love mankind & the kind man
Deeply and dearly.
~ Iulia Qiparosa ~ Written @ Chatham, Kent, UK, November 2022.
(All of the photos are compiled from my own photography over the years. I didn't give them titles or descriptions since I didn't want to interrupt the flow of the poetry.)
💞
Thank you for being here!
Thank you for your presence and time which you have allocated to my poem while reading it.
I really hope it made you feel something, no matter on which side of the chain you are:), anyway there are no chains, we are all free.
Hearted Thanks to all of you!
💓
Iulia Q.
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