I'm built different. I'm built wrong. I'm built out of guilt. and I have frigid bones and fiery palms that burns and leave criss-cross patterns in my own flesh. I'm born in the generation that felt wrong and too fast-paced for my idle fantasies, so I made my own generation where I chant revolution against the unrevoked. But in my words lies no wisdom, just rage and anger and pure hatred because I'm built unsure. I'm built lacking. I'm built to build more of me in the world. I'm built to put holes in the walls. I'm built with bones that rattles. I'm built to detest messy, so I detest myself with all that's left to detest. I detest messy even though my own poetry is as messy as a tumbleweed, but I don't care. I have no care for the world, on how messy they think my poetry is, cause messy is the man that messed with cataclysmic poems he had for breakfast. I don't care if they think my mess of a poetry is a garbage, or pretty, or something floating in between bad or good, or artsy, or unexisting, or existing yet an abomination, or not enough and I need to mess with it more for it's lacking substance into it. It's lacking phrases that I cannot form in my head, the phrases that can describe a war, the phrases that can describe my silence, the phrases that can understand me more than myself, the phrases that are bound mysteries roaming anywhere but in the lines of my poetry.
cause I was young,
and naive,
and so, so frail.
I would cry, and I'd drown in poetry, and cry again, and then head to bed. I'd hug myself to slumber with limbs numbing, and wake up lightheaded cause I always dreamt of warmth of a home in my sleep. When people call me stupid, I'd feel pity over my stupidity and render “this is a part of me”s at the tippy tip of my bland tongue, and they'd say that it's just plain stupidity and no excuses can erase the fact, and I'd cry again and pass out under the heavens and under the clouds that teases whistles. I was young, was naive, and was so, so heartbroken. And it hasn't even been that long. I was still young and growing and hurting and branding how the world is such a scary place to live in. And I'd write again, awakening the unexistent poet in me, and cry in between, and shout with poetry, run with poetry, be broken with poetry, die an impending death slowly with poetry.
And whenever I ache, I don't just ache. I ache and become poetic. I ache and write tenfolds of elegies for my deceased blissful youth (may it rest in peace six feet under its seemingly forgotten tombstone). I let the stillness shout for the unsaid rhymes that were hidden at the back of my vocal abilities profound in silence: the suppressed opposition; the secrecy of stuttering muteness; and the hidden damage coherent to inner torture. My body may be akin to a young vessel but my mind was already a battlefield waving war for the calmness of thoughts and for the surrendering hands paused in mid air. My consciousness that was sharp at first was already exposed to blunt hope. Truth be told, I accept changes. I'd kiss it restless if given the chance to do so even though it scares me. Cause im human, and was bound to regret things that were said and done, and I am foretold to fall and scrape my knees and leave bruises that would stay 'til I no longer breath melancholy. I am a HUMAN, albeit young and naive, but not numb to pain.
but mind you, I embrace my pain poetically.
A warchild unfolding the secrets of the universe in a timelapse. Annyeong Haseyo! This author is a dreamer. He goes by the name Cronus and is under the username @cronus.arthfael. He lives in Lake Wood, Philippines, and is a proud Bisaya. He likes to listen to music especially KPOP. Aside from fanboying to his favorite group acts, he also loves to read and Sci-fi and Romance are his favorite genres.
Cronus is a 17 year-old boy, who writes to not feel trapped in his very own emotions. Before discovering prose-poetry, he fancied writing short stories and haikus as a way to ease his boredom during the pandemic, and his interest about literature grew from there onwards. He also loves gaming. If given a PC or a phone with bigger storage, who knows, he might even become a pro!
His muse is Wong Kun-hang from the K-POP/C-POP boy group, WayV (Neo-Culture Technology sub-unit). Images from this blog are retrieved from @i_m_hendery on instagram. Lastly, this user likes to have interactions with people whom he shares the same interests with!