have a sip of tea - life at first pattern

life at first pattern.

it tried to hide,

but something crack.

it tried to sing,

but couldn't connect the note—

the words kept catching in its throat.

it tried to draw,

but the lines wouldn't land—

a block in its mind,

where art and words once ran.

the page stayed quiet,

though its thoughts were loud—

creativity trapped,

like a storm without a cloud.

it tried to smile,

but it was suffocating though.

yet here with it,

it can finally breathe.

it tried to shoot an arrow,

but missed the mark—

the target clear,

but it lacked the force to chart it.

it said it is no good,

but it's good for it,

it's been hoping to change—

now it know it can.

but it won't,

not if it is not by its side.

why does it feel right

every time it lets it in?

why does it feel like

it can tell it everything—

all the secrets that keeps it in chains,

& all the damage

that might make it dangerous?

it got a dark side—

guess it is not the only one.

what if they both tried

fighting what they're running from?

it can't fix it

if it never face it...

what if it find a way to escape it?

it could be free—

free...!

it can't fix it

if it never face it.

let the past be the past

till it's weightless.

oh, time goes by,

& it lose perspective.

yeah, hope only ache,

so it just forget it.

but it is breaking through the dark in it,

when it thought nobody could.

& it is waking up

all these parts of it,

it thought were buried for good.

between imposter and this monster,

it's been lost inside its head.

ain't no choice

when all these voices

keep it pointed towards no end.

it's just easier

when it is with it—

no one sees it

the way it do.

it don't trust it,

but it want to.

it keep coming back to it...

why does it feel right

every time it let it in?

why does it feel like

it can tell it anything?

it can't fix it

if it never face it...

what if it find a way to escape it?

it could be free—

free...!

it can't fix it

if it never face it.

let the past be the past

till it's weightless!

whoa—

so take its hand...

it's open.

free! free!

what if it rebirth

from what was burned?

free! free!

it tried to hide,

but something burned.

it couldn't sing,

but it gave it hope.

it can't fix it

if it never face it...

let the past be the past

till it's weightless...

time to put it in its place—

'cause it's rotten within!

when its patterns start to show,

the hatred wanna sprout out of its...

when the patterns start to show,

it sees the warrior scars that lies beneath.

put these patterns

all in the past now,

let it see—

& finally live

like the "it" they all see.

but now it sees beauty

in the burning glasses.

the scars are part of it—

darkness dragon, and kinship.

its voice

without the lies—

this is what it sounds like.

when darkness dragon meets the light,

this is what it sound like,

or is it still the exiled, vile, forsaken dragon,

garbage-fed beast scavenged through rot,

devouring what the world throws away,

forever fleeing from every name it's ever called,

including the one it once gave itself:

closet-hidden professor,

lecturing shadows,

grading silence,

teaching no one

but its ghosts before?

the choice is it;

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#createtogether #haveasipoftea #lifeatfirst #lifeatfirstpattern