The Song Achilles Sang

Aristotle Atlas Rose | 17 | Poet, Writer, Freelance artist|MLM, DNI If you're anti-BLM, Homophobic, Transphobic, etc.| Send me requests or prompt ideas! |

[chai-nichole]

This was longer then I originally intended, but:

Don’t ever let anybody use you to make themselves feel better.

Don’t let anybody abuse you mentally, emotionally or physically. If what their making you feel, doesn’t feel right, or in the back of your head, you know that it’s wrong. Please, get out.

Don’t let people who talk about you behind your back and spread rumors and lie about you stay in your life. They don’t deserve to be there. People who are genuinely your friends or who you are dating will never do that to you, if they are true.

Don’t let anybody make you feel like you’re nothing or hard to love, because you’re not. You should be loved, you deserve it. You deserve to be happy.

Don’t let anybody belittle you or make you feel like your emotions or feelings don’t matter when you express them. That you’re the one in the wrong for expressing how they make you feel. If they ignore it or yell at you in response, or manage to turn the tables and make you out to seem like the bad person for feeling these things, or that it’s your fault. Run.

It’s hard, I know, especially when you’ve been friends with, or dated these people or this person for anywhere between a couple days to a couple years and so on. It’s hard because your attached, and you love them, and maybe you think they love you back to. They don’t. They love the way you make them feel maybe. The attention you give them when nobody else will. They love the fact that you’ll always stick around no matter how they treat you. That they can treat you this way and get away with it. That you’re basically their toy that they can just use as some sort of outlet for when their mad or happy. People like this only pretend to love you and be your friend. They know that you won’t leave, and if you do. They will likely try and make themselves seem as innocent as possible. Which is another technique abusers use. Making you seem like the crazy one and the one who did all the horrible things. While they go out and treat other people the way you deserved to be treated. It’s a harsh tactic they use as either a final act of cruelty, to make you feel like you were undeserving of any true love or affection. Or its to trick you into thinking they’ve changed, even though they haven’t. Don’t let them. Please. It’s really hard, when somebody you love does these things, but believe me in the end you’ll be better off without them.

No matter what they say, they don’t genuinely care about you, and they don’t love you. If they make you feel any of the above things or do any of these things, and many more I’m positive I haven’t listed. You need to get out. Loyalty isn’t staying in a toxic environment just for the sake of “being loyal”. Even if you love them. They don’t care about you. People who you love, shouldn’t be draining to be around, or talk to in general. They shouldn’t make you feel these things. They can make you happy on occasion but what’s that happiness even worth if the bad outweighs the good heavily. Even if they’re your closest friend, or the love of your life. You still need to leave..for you’re own sanity. They will use you and not truly care about the affects they’ve had on your life or the negativity they’ve caused.

It’s ok to walk away. You aren’t a bad person for wanting to be happy and better yourself and not constantly have toxic energy around you.

It took me forever to figure that out and honestly I wished I had realized this years ago when it first started, and I wish I had been strong enough to walk away from these types of people. I lost so much in the process of trying to love them and be there and protect them from things that they were either causing or making up, and in the process I lost myself, some potential beautiful friendships, self worth and so much more I could have had if I had just walked away to begin with. It took me forever…but I still did it. It’s never to late. Whether your young or old.

You deserve to be happy. You deserve to find peace. You deserve to live your life free of toxic people, who only want to see you drown. You deserve..to just..live.

[thesongachillessang]

He never hit me

Or kissed me

But he left a hole in my life that hurt like he did

He wasn't mine,

But I loved him all the same,

The way you love someone

Not quite platonic but not romantic,

And he whispered I love you five times

Three nights before I found out

And they all shattered into nothings

Because his word became meaningless

To be so heavily betrayed and lied to

Left to the wolves and the writers of your fate

Leaves you bleeding on the battlefield

Ripping open your armor

To show that Achilles heel

And beg the next poor bastard in range

To end it all.

[thesongachillessang]

There was something so lovely about the innocence of the night sky,

But falling stars become more relatable than beautiful when life gets its way.

Because we are like stars,

Burning so fast and bright

Recklessly calculated into the abyss of the night,

and by the time someone notices our fall,

we have already hit the surface of an unknown land,

Craters burning around us,

as the ache of our bones becomes too much,

and we fall silently into the nothingness of being. 

I realized this when the pale moon was never so pretty

as a pale face with hateful eyes who whispered the word love in exchange for blindness to their manipulation.

- I Never Felt So Alone Burning Out Looking At The Sky.

08/10/2020

[thesongachillessang]

A Mothers Love.

I never knew how not to find your face out in the crowd,

I subconsciously seek it so I may be one step ahead when the alcohol serves its tour,

And often times I forget the only place I can find it anymore,

is six feet under in a casket.

People always tell me that I’m mature for my age,

but childish to believe in love, or beauty,

and I can’t help but be reminded of you.

Those venom-soaked words unable to comprehend the life you made was not yours to own.

All those days I spent hidden under bunk-beds

clinging to made-up realities,

Because the truth lays drunk on the kitchen floor after leaving black and blue prints on her children.

Part of me is still afraid.

I see you in the darkness of my room at night,

when I’m too weak from exhaust to defend myself.

I think you’re simply waiting to pounce on me,

getting revenge for all those times I stood up to you in email,

because seeing you in person would’ve guaranteed death.

You played the victim so well-

that I cannot talk about this trauma without wondering if I’ll turn out like you.

So like a good boy, I sit still and shut up.

But I can hear you call me a wretched bastard, still,

In my dreams I can feel you choking me,

shoving me under the water of the bath tub when I was 6,

telling me about the abortion you shouldn’t have backed out of.

I’m seventeen now, and I still get anxious when my head dives under those crystal waves,

I fear you might be there waiting to keep me under.

I never craved a mothers love,

I craved her forgiveness for continuing to exist in her world,

Her domain.

And still, never being enough,

and no amount of therapy can make me forget the cruelties of your mind,

and how often you shamed me to train codependency.

No one could love me better, but no one could hate me more.

No one could treat me the way you do-

You were right, few people could match your stabbing game. 

So I sit here as mother dearest rots in her grave,

yet in death I find you more present in haunting,

Than you ever were in life. 

[thesongachillessang]

I was never so good at arts and crafts,

but when I met you I managed to build a love more ethereal than angels,

and a home within my heart for you,

so my handiwork may not be the best,

but I’d say it must be something to build a love as special as this. 

[thesongachillessang]

Martyr

They were the faithful captain, the strong and fearless leader that their people respected so deeply, the one who listened to their crew when the world burned around them- They couldn’t be brought down to their own mortality so easily, could they? They were the protagonist, the hero.

Of course, the antagonist had other plans- while the person that cowered on the ground before them, unable to muster the strength to fight them again seemed unstoppable, they knew despite their best efforts, they could not avoid the truth of self. They were no one’s hero: Not even their own.  The martyr complex was laughable, but the saddest part of it all was that the antagonist saw themself in the protagonist- of little worth unless needed by someone else. Hell, that was what had led them to this life. They became the villain in their story so no one would ever use them again. No one could ever become dependent on their “good-natured character” ever again. 

“I’m sorry Captain,” The antagonist sneered as they grab the protagonist by their collar, effortlessly putting them on their shoulder and making their way out, “You’re no ones hero today.”

[thesongachillessang]

When Watching Him Die.

You’d never imagined watching him being lowered into the ground would so vividly remind you of the horrors of that night- beforehand, any attempt to recall was a chance at a feigned memory, a block in the road against the truth. But something about the shadows of the grave seemed to unlock that night, and it can’t help but to point responsibility for this tragedy at yourself.

It started after the death of your mother. Most imagine watching the death of a monster would be a relief, but instead there was a void in your chest so heavy and pained, not even alcohol could blur the jagged edges of your broken-bottled youth. The weirdest thing happened, though, the night of her funeral. You’d never been a fan of the dark, but tonight your heart races in the way of a rabbit caught by wolves, there was a weight to the darkness that crawled across the tile with a disgusting moan, a dripping noise that echoed in the silence, enhanced by the hum of your fan. You curled closer to your covers, but unlike your childhood fantasies, the scraping persisted until it was perched on top of you. It felt like a heavy dog, burying itself into the covers above you, huffing into the darkness and clawing into your arms. You had to be dreaming, though, right? 

The cool dripping of blood from your arms begged to differ, and the acidic slobber of the beast burned through your sheets. In terror, you laid frozen on your stomach begging god that the beast would find its way away from you. Of course, you had no such luck, and for weeks this raged on, increasingly becoming more violent and heavy as if begging for you to look. to behold the monster behind your torture. After a few nights, it began to reek of sulfur and death, and in a moment of bravery you looked-

Its skin was like tar, not quite together, full of holes, and dripping like slime onto the tile of your bedroom floor. Its eyes glowed white, pinholes buried in the dark abyss. It looked like someone tried to make a person, but only vaguely knowing what it was- a toddlers pet-project of horrors. 

The image of its face, so lifeless and terrifying, was enough to inspire months of sleepless nights. You worked overtime and drank to go home with strangers, you kept all the lights on and booty-calls on speed-dial. 

One night, in a drunken rush, you invited your friendly stranger home, being both drunk and sad enough to make the mistake of forgetting about your paranormal roommate, and after an embarrassed fumble for keys and a sloppy undressing in your living room, you found yourself staring at the wall as your suitor made his move on top of you. 

Instead of finding the view of the city from your window, or your gaming set up lit up by the moonlight, you found the face of your visitor coming closer in the darkness,

Now the details get blurry here, but when you came-to again, you were covered in tar and blood and the body of your one-time lover. 

When the cops came, you couldn’t begin to explain the truth. You were suspect at first until the autopsy revealed it was a “freak animal attack”,

After that night, your neighbor never visited you again, but rather than never sleeping out of fear for your life, you stayed up in requiem for his,

Staring at his casket, lowered into the dirt, you could almost see the hands of the beast wrap itself around it, claiming the corpse of the life it took. 

[thesongachillessang]

Men of myths

Icarus was never meant to be reduced to a martyr who chased what he couldn’t have, 

Achilles was never a brave warrior meant to be manlier than the love in his heart for his dearest Patroclus,

Great Men Of Myths are so often reduced to themes and morals,

We erase the blood in their veins and the ache in their hearts-

for Achilles would be an alcoholic, drowning his sorrows in a bottle so his vision could be blurry enough to lay with his lover one last time,

and Icarus would cliff dive to feel the rush of falling over and over again,

they were men before they were myths,

and their downfalls were not the death of them-

their loved ones lost were.

[thesongachillessang]

Among the Leaves

There is a place beyond this nowhere town,

Past the nihilistic boundaries of nowhere, USA,

Where the forest grows thick and the leaves fall heavy, 

heavy with the burden of the world and all its pains, 

the trees cry out and the animals run,

and among the leaves you may find the kid I used to be,

he is laying face down with lifeless eyes and sunken cheeks,

he is clinging towards a teddy bear as old as him, 

as if death was not the worst fear he faced, 

Among the fairy rings and moss,

he can no longer hear the cries of his fellow people,

the mushroom clouds blow up in the distance,

and his childhood is preserved among the leaves,

the forest ground is cold but the world is colder,

we raise our fists in peaceful protest as they tear gas children,

sell our pain on the media for profit,

we become a marketable generation, separated from nature, 

and he stays young, becoming part of it,

he will never learn to hide himself in locker rooms for fear of being called out

on the fact he would rather kiss the quarterback than fight him.

he will never have to justify his existence,

to a world who calls him a freak,

and he will never have to speak

on which we speak of as adults about the horrors of our youth.

For he is among the leaves,

and I am bloodied on the battlefield of my youth in his honor.