WastedPoet

It is through writing that we are able to escape the dark realm of reality and experience true liberty as we remove our high-profile masks and embrace the Wasted Poet within us. —Ben Arellano

[thewastedpoet]

I wrote this in dedication to a recent someone who touched me wholeheartedly with her life story and how she reminds me of who I was and what I was in the past. Gwen.

A Touch Of The Past

You remind me so much of my glory days.

Like an exciting Friday night that I always look forward to,

Like a party music that makes me want to dance,

Like a love song that’s on repeat,

Like the taste of beer that makes me crave for more,

Like that old friend that I carelessly shared my secrets with.

But the thing is,

I have priorities now,

I don’t dance anymore,

God knows how much I hate love songs,

I don’t drink that much anymore,

And that friend that I shared my secrets with? Betrayed me.

I got over my past life, I should get over you too. Occasionally reminding me of the past is fun and will do me no harm, but staying will. that’s why some things are better left in our memories.

Wasted Poet

Artwork by: @thethinkingbrush

[thethinkingbrush]

How beautiful is the interaction of darkness and light - the sun that lights up lives, exposing the hidden, and allowing the moon to shine its brightest during the darkest phases. ☀️🌙

[thewastedpoet]

What a masterpiece. 😭👏🏼💕

[thethinkingbrush]

d r e a m y  n i g h t

Perhaps life is all about twirling under one of those midnight skies with eyes closed.

[thewastedpoet]

I wrote this about a month ago, thinking of ways to make myself feel better amidst the pandemic. As much as I try to deny it, I am indeed suffering from depression, and I sometimes result to doing things that are shameful and self-destructive. One of which is when I posted this poem on my Facebook page and created an additional characteristic of a person from my past then gave her the credit for this. Nevertheless, I made this poem while reminiscing about my better past and how I’m still stuck in it, for I am a prisoner of the past.

“You’re like a history book that I will never put down. I will never get tired of reading you. So full of emotions and wonders. A broken record that talks endlessly about its past. Like a saturated sunlight that is so intense, yet beautiful. The best part was the story of us, how you’ve become the best part of me, ‘bout how I’ll forever carry you with me, until the last chapter.”

Wasted Poet

Image from: Pinterest

[thewastedpoet]

*A walk to the bar*

‪As the silence of the night became unbearable, temptations kicked in. The thirst for lust, the grudge of trauma, the never-ending tingling sensation from the spine.‬

‪With the pain decaying everything that’s good within me, I entered chaos. Sinners dressed as an angel, sad souls wearing a mask of happiness, lustful guys acting like a gentleman, unfulfilled desires, and the never-ending fallacies.‬

‪There was never a void, it’s all an illusion of us pushing out the light for we all have our demons to hide.‬ ‪Do you see? The darkness can be more beautiful than the light, while the light is only more blinding.‬

Wasted Poet

Image from: Pinterest