Fate

I Saw

I saw your wings. 

I saw them. 

They were there: large and white, 

making you fly above me like an angel. 

You were strong and beautiful

and your sparkling smile made my heart smile-

wherever you were, things were good.

I saw your kind eyes and felt the warmth you spread

wherever you went.

As if you brought sun to darkness, 

enlightening everything around you.

Your hug was soft and loving and felt like home.

I saw all this in you. 

Until I opened my eyes

and you weren't an angel anymore

you were a snake

crawling on the ground

black and red with a poisonous tongue.

You were scaly and hideous

and your dangerous grin made my heart freeze-

wherever you were, things became evil.

I saw your mad eyes and felt the poison you spread

wherever you went.

As if you brought darkness to the light

darkening everything around you.

Your clasp was hard and viperish and felt like death.

I saw all this in you.

Milk Bottle

I've run out of emotions. 

It seems as if I have used them too much 

and now there aren't any left. 

Like an empty milk bottle. 

Easily breakable.

You look at me and you see nothing but glass. 

No colours nor flavours. 

Just an empty bottle. 

You can't drink it.

You can't use it.

It's tasteless,

colourless,

purposeless.

It's worthless. 

Why don't you throw it away?

The day the phone rang

Things were hard then. Seven years in peace. She could be glad her husband had not been called to serve. He was ill, a heart condition had made him survive the war. Ironic. A disease made him survive. And the healthy ones died.  Her brothers had gone to Russia. For good. There had not been any funeral. Sometimes she caught herself looking at the door, waiting for them to come home. Where could they be? Buried somewhere underneath layers of Siberian ice? Cut to pieces somewhere in Poland? Alive? Had they been tortured? Did they starve to death or were they shot by the Soviets? It felt so wrong.

Her wedding had been a very humble celebration. People smiled, remembering those who were not there to celebrate anymore. Remembering was bad. It hurt. So they stopped remembering.They had a little house and a little field. Her husband was a good man, docile and grateful. It was 6 o'clock and darkness had come to the tiny village. These days were dark, even the sun seemed dark. She loved her name, as it was the same name of her favourite Saint. She loved her two boys, too. They were crawling around. Of course they did not know it was the 23rd of December. They did not know, it was almost Christmas. She smiled when she opened her only drawer, where she had put his gift. It was nothing special, she thought. But she had knitted a long, warm scarf for her husband. He went working by bike and the winter would grip his neck. This scarf would protect him and keep him healthy. She smiled and remembered how she had chosen the wool: It had the same colour of the flowers he had given to her when he proposed. Yellow and white. Five years happily married. He was hard working and a patient father. Of course they were surprised, when the doctor said: There is one more! Two babies? At once? They didn't have enough diapers and clothes for the two little boys. Brave they were! Long time sick but never gave up fighting. Endless nights they had fought the fever and the coughs. Whenever their father looked at them, they smiled, as if they were saying: Don't worry, we'll be ok!
So she took the scarf and opened a little paper back to wrap it. She wanted to write a prayer on the back, his favourite prayer. The phone rang. The boys kept crawling around the polished wooden floor. It was stuffy inside the room, she had put some wood in the stove, so the boys wouldn't feel cold. They were healthy now and her biggest worry was to see them sick. The phone rang again. She never had gotten used to this thing! Why this ringing, black object at home? She was the only one in her family who had a phone, that's why they kept coming to her to use this modern device. At least she could be helpful, as she hadn't had much time to care about her father and her only surviving sister. Her father was a black smith before the first world war. After the second world war he had stopped talking. After losing his wife and four sons, he had given up. He ate, slept, sat in the kitchen and nodded if someone asked something. He had been a good father, strict but just. And this phone, again! Hello?
Ma'am?
Yes?
We're calling you to inform you.
Yes?
There has been an accident.
 Accident? What do you mean?
Yes, Ma'am. We're sorry. A car hit your husband. 
What do you mean?
He did not survive.
He? Did not? What?
Terrible darkness came to the tiny village.
The warm yellow scarf fell on the floor.
The healthy boys kept crawling around.
The stove got hotter and hotter.
She saw her favourite Saint winking and smiling.
She saw the wooden ceiling with the black hole in it coming down.
The war had damaged the house badly.
The Saint was coming close.
Endless darkness.


Maria? Are you still there?

Powerless

I wish I could hurt you really bad

I would cut your fingers off, 

one by one and make you eat them.

I would tear your hair out

and burn it. 

I wish I could cut your skin 

and make you bleed all over.

You would drown in your own blood.

I would fill a cup with this

red, warm liquid that smells like iron

and I would make you drink it!

I wish I could cause in you 
the worst pain of your life

just by looking at you.

Genius

Inside this bottle

you'll find the truth.

Inside this glass

you'll find reality.

It'll be messed up

and kind of blurry

but you'll never see it that clearly

like on the bottom of this bottle.

When the liquid gives place

to an insight that'll last only for a moment.

The world stops spinning

and you stop thinking 

and you just see it.

For this moment to last

you would have to live in the bottle.

And then you'd be a Genius,

a Genius in the bottle

trapped forever.

You prefer liberty. 

10220

Today is your 10,220th day.
And what have you done?
How many more days will there be for you?
You're celebrating that time passes?
You're happy today, because the calendar gives you a number?
Weird.

Living Painting

It's a rectangular image

surrounded by white borders

and with the sound of water drops.

The image changes colours,

in winter it's completely grey

with naked trees and bushes

and no birds at all. 

Cold.

In Spring it's yellow

like the easter bush

and smells of chocolate

and you hear birds chirping.

Sunny.

In Summer it's deep green

like the never ending backyard lawn

and smells of barbecue smoke

and you sweat in the sun.

Hot.

In Autumn it's red and orange

as if the sunset had painted the trees

and the birds meet to fly away

and it smells of earth and rain.

Windy.

It's a rectangular kitchen window

surrounded by white borders

and with the sound of water drops in the sink.

Leak

All this love...what do I do with it?
I'm injured.
Bleeding, leaking love.

One Bite

When she bit the apple

she felt her throat restricting

and the cold sweat running from her forehead.

When she bit the apple

she saw the room spinning

and tears filling her eyes.

When she bit the apple

she realised she had done a mistake

that would cost her

her life.

Small Room

Small room

silence

sobbing

coughing.

Dark room

memories

hugging

crying.

Warm room

tears

grieving

weeping.

Child's voice:

"Where is daddy?"

People's eyes

at the coffin.

Boundless

The day we decided dreams should become real

we signed our death sentence.

Dreams should remain dreams

for that they exist.

Reality should be real

for that's the purpose.

Once again Human Race messed it up.

And now shrinks got long queues of people

paying cash desperate to "fulfill" their dreams

and accept their lives

and dealers run out of drugs

'cause we're all addicted to something

that makes us feel better

and people just don't know what to do

as the dreams never come true

and reality is so surreal

nobody knows anymore

where one starts and the other ends.

Five Seconds

We blow bubbles to burst them. 

They're not supposed to remain colourful bubbles floating through the air while little children chase them, laughing and bouncing of joy. 

Bubbles are supposed to last five seconds the most. 

Then they must die. 

They must burst and splash in your face so you close your eyes for a moment and wrinkle your nose. 

Then you laugh and burst the next one.

The bubble's purpose is to burst. 

Frozen

Then I saw it

my blood froze

my heart beat made me deaf

I couldn't breathe anymore

I couldn't move

I just couldn't

and it was just there

spreading its evil like always

and the sky darkened

and the sun hid behind black clouds

and there was no escape

so I smiled

and walked away.

Slap

Some words hurt more than a slap in the face.

Some looks are sharper than Valyrian steel.

Some smiles are more dangerous than an atomic bomb.

Some kisses are more poisonous than  strychnine.

And still, 

you only learn this

 feeling the slap, 

the cut, 

the danger 

and licking your lips 

after a deliciously warm kiss

that brings you endless darkness. 

Watch

It's later than you think.

Sweet Dreams

Mom? What does this word mean: C O U S I N?


Ah, this is a really old word! Long time I haven't heard that. Well, cousin means: The child of your uncle or aunt.


What does aunt and uncle mean?


Sweetie, your aunt is the sister of your mother or your father. And uncle is your mother's or father's brother.


Wow. Never heard these words. Brother and sister is someone who has the same parents, right? I've learned this in school. I just never understood why parents would want to have more than one child. Did they have a second one because the first one went wrong?


Ah, son, you see, these things happened long time ago. More than a century ago people just had more children. I don't know why. Brothers grew up together, often shared the room and toys, sometimes even their clothes. But they played together also and had fun.Would you like to have a brother or sister?


Of course not! I would have to share toys and share the pudding you make for me! I am glad nowadays people are smarter and got only one child. If I want to play I go to the mall, there is a playground. But there I don't have to take my toys! And I do have something like a brother! See?


Sweetie, this is your robot. It's not human, you know that.


I know, mom! It's much cooler! I can turn it off, when I'm done with playing.


Well, you got a point. Now, go to sleep. Good night. Sweet dreams.


Good night, mom.

The Fish

City AA101
Day 235
Year 2666
9:00 am

Complete name, please.


Jonathan Luc Ido


Age?


35. 


So you claim you saw a fish?


Yes, Sir.


A real fish? In the river?


Yes, Sir.


Please answer a little bit louder, we're recording this. 


Yes, Sir, I saw a real fish in the river.


Do you know since when there are no living fish on this planet?


Yes, Sir. Since the big explosion 2235.


That's correct. The big explosion. Since then there are no living animals on this planet, Jonathan. So how do you want us to believe you saw a fish? Don't you think it's probable you just had an illusion? You THINK you saw a fish, but actually you didn't.


No, Sir. I am sure. I saw a fish. A small fish in the river. I saw it jumping out of the water. There must be other fish there, too. Have you checked the river? I have recorded my observation 2 days ago in the local information system. After two hours you brought me here to interrogate me. Why am I still here? Have you checked the river? Have you sent someone there to find out if there are other fish? Why don't you believe me? Why are you holding me here? Just go there and check it out. I thought it would be great news to have fish on Earth again... I do not understand why I am here. Go check the river!


Jonathan, the river is under constant observation. If there were fish, we would have seen them long before you did. The whole planet is being watched, you know that! Since we had to cover the planet with a glass roof and wear this security clothes and the oxygen masks! We constantly check the atmosphere. We know each and every change. It gets recorded and analysed. Since the agency exists everything is under control. I am surprised you really thought we wouldn't know about it. We understand, you think you saw a fish. And you must understand you cannot walk around the city and talk about this or include this information in the communication system. You did NOT see a fish!


But I did! Sir, I did see it! And I want the agency to go check it out! We must find the fish and see how we can make them survive this time! We cannot make the same mistake again! What if the planet is recovering? What if animals come back? We could soon have trees and birds again like in the old story books! You know? Flowers and animals on earth? Real nature? Not the one we produce in our industries.


What's wrong with our nature? Why do you think the old nature was better? It wasn't, you see! That's why it got destroyed! Don't be a fool. I need you to trust the agency. You should never have taken this illusion so seriously!


It was NOT an illusion, Sir! What is your problem with the fish? And what is this machine doing there?


It's recording you and analysing the situation.


Analysing for what?


To take a decision.


What decision?


About what the agency will do about you.


What do you mean? "Do about me"?


See, Jonathan. You scared people with your talk about fish. We can't let people get scared here. It's dangerous. Scared people commit mistakes. They start believing in nonsense. This planet has seen wars and disaster due to people talking nonsense, like you are doing now. Do you now when the last war happened here?


Yes, Sir. In 2235. 


See! We've been hundreds of years in Peace. We've fed every single human being on this planet. We've managed to live in complete happiness. No wars. No diseases. No problems. We must protect this system. Otherwise it'll be like it used to be: Wars, fights, starving people, diseases...You are putting everything at stake!


I am sorry Sir, but I do not understand why a fish can be dangerous.


Well, Jonathan Luc Ido. You must not understand. You must stop.


Stop what?


Existing.

One more

My father's language reminds me of my past.
My mother's language reminds me of my present.
English is the language I feel the world
and forget involving
my two minds
my two hearts
my two lives.
English is the language
I manage to be one.
One more stranger.

Hell

It's supposed to be hot and red
and full of flames and hard work
and ugly people and screams of pain
and the guy with horns and a funny tale
and he is limping around shouting
and whipping and I can't stop laughing
because it's so ridiculous
and the place where I came from was much worse.

Vomit

Sometimes writing is like vomiting

you need to get rid of something

that is making you sick.

It comes from the deepest of your inside

and makes you dizzy

and your face turns green

and you can't think about anything else

but a place to vomit.

Sometimes it stinks

and has funny colours

and others hate you for it

but it's yours 

only you understand what it means.

And the others? 

Feel sick when they read it.

Sunlight

And this warm sunlight 

breaking the day

travelling so long

to come and enlighten 

your grave stone.

You and Me

My heart beats when yours beats

we eat from the same plate

breathe the same oxygen

my blood is your blood

my pace is your pace

and you love me more than anything

even if I poison you

if I stop you from doing everything you like

you gave up being someone

to be me

you gave up everything

to get me

I'll make you miserable

I'll make you ugly

I'll make you red and fat and moody

and you love me like nothing else.

My heart beats when yours beats.

Please don't stop.

Don't you see?

Crying waves

on blood red water

hitting the sand in full

screaming of pain.

Whining water

underneath grieving sky

being cut by hungry birds

falling from heaven.

Stupid people

running around

deaf and blind

hitting the ground.

Trapped

As long as you chase me

hunt me like prey

I will keep running

to get far away

and release my soul.

As long as I live

and breathe 

I'll be thinking of you

like a rabbit reminds the fox

and a criminal remembers the victim.

As long as this planet exists

and spins around

hanging somewhere between others

in a never ending universe

I'll be your hostage.

Which One

Some people are born to bring light

to make things warm and cosy 

to smile and hug and sparkle wherever they go.

They manage to smile on sad days

and cry of happiness.

But there is no light without  darkness.

Some people are born to bring darkness

to make things cold and eerie

to darken and poison and appall wherever they go.

They manage to suck happiness up

and smile of misery.

Which one are you? 

Pearlking

Once upon a time there was the King of all Pearls. He lived in the ocean and carried a spear with him wherever he went. This spear was decorated with one thousand beautiful Pearls. And it was deadly sharp. The Pearlking loved Pearls so much, he wanted all of them for himself. In his huge castle made of shiny shells he kept them in a wonderful big vault. Every day he travelled around to find more Pearls for his collection. While he went hunting for Pearls, giant sharks protected his colossal castle. 

One day the Pearlking was riding a white wave to go after some new pearls, when he suddenly saw two brilliant Pearls glowing on the horizon. There! He moved faster like a Dolphin fleeing from a shark riding the waves that seemed to obey him. He came closer. The Pearls were more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Right there, in front of him, inside this little boy's eyes! He would get them! He desired them. He would grab the little boy and cut his eyes out. But the boy's father was there, holding his kid tight in his arms, while the white waves splashed around the  little wooden boat. The Pearlking started whispering words to persuade the little boy to come with him: " Sweet child. Come with me to my castle. I give you everything you desire! Gold and toys and sweets. You'll sing and dance and be the Prince of my castle! Come with me, sweet, sweet child...".  

The pearl-eyed boy got scared and said: "Father, can't you hear that? The Pearlking came to get me!". "Oh boy", said the father, "it's just the wind". The Pearlking came closer to grab the boy. "Father, father! He's getting me! The Pearlking is grabbing my arm!".  "Sweet child, it's just the shade of the clouds above you. Don't worry", the father answered. The little pearl-eyed boy panicked and started crying. He cried so much he couldn't breathe anymore. The father looked around and suddenly he saw it: A huge shade, a silhouette of something riding the waves. It had gotten dark and the poor father couldn't recognise the Pearlking, but felt a horrible threat. Fear overcame him and regret. He looked at his little son, who had warned him. His little, sweet boy... 

The father started to row desperately, holding his pale boy in his lap. Rowing back home as fast as he could. The boy stopped crying. And breathing. When they arrived at the shore, the little boy fell in the sand like a wet sack of flour. Dead. The father kneeled down, sobbing in the sand. Grieving so much, he didn't look out. 

Suddenly he saw the black shade of something above him.

Two more pearls for the king. And food for the sharks. 

Pride

They were born in the same pride

surrounded by the same strong and graceful lionesses.

The older lion, strong and experienced

taught the younger lion everything patiently.

How to watch the prey.

How to wait for the right moment to jump.

How to bite the antelope.

How to listen.

The younger one got stronger and smarter.

Growing bigger than the leader of the pack.
One day, he decided not to listen anymore.
He decided to be the leader of the pack.
So he lay in wait for the older to come close
and attacked him
exactly how he had been taught.
It was a bloody fight.
The winner bellowed loudly
celebrating his dominance.
The loser ran away, 
licking his wounds,
disappointed,
lonely,
regretful.

Cooking Pot

She lived in a cooking pot 

with warm water

calm and comfortable

day after day the same temperature

silent stagnancy.

Suddenly she saw this other pot

right next to hers

boiling water

bubbles bursting in the air

steam obnubilating the kitchen

mysterious mist spreading.

How wonderful!

How pretty!

How teasing!

How magical!

She couldn't help and jumped

from comfy warmth

into burning heat.

The bubbles and the steam

the boiling water and the mist

swallowed her as if she were made of salt.

The heat was too hot.

She dissolved in seconds.

Looking up, watching the mysterious mist

and the boiling bubbles burst,

she became nothing.

The Story of a Mother

 

by Hans Christian Andersen

(1848)

 MOTHER sat by her little child; she was very sad, for she feared it would die. It was quite pale, and its little eyes were closed, and sometimes it drew a heavy deep breath, almost like a sigh; and then the mother gazed more sadly than ever on the poor little creature. Some one knocked at the door, and a poor old man walked in. He was wrapped in something that looked like a great horse-cloth; and he required it truly to keep him warm, for it was cold winter; the country everywhere lay covered with snow and ice, and the wind blew so sharply that it cut one’s face. The little child had dozed off to sleep for a moment, and the mother, seeing that the old man shivered with the cold, rose and placed a small mug of beer on the stove to warm for him. The old man sat and rocked the cradle; and the mother seated herself on a chair near him, and looked at her sick child who still breathed heavily, and took hold of its little hand.

“You think I shall keep him, do you not?” she said. “Our all-merciful God will surely not take him away from me.”

The old man, who was indeed Death himself, nodded his head in a peculiar manner, which might have signified either Yes, or No; and the mother cast down her eyes, while the tears rolled down her cheeks. Then her head became heavy, for she had not closed her eyes for three days and nights, and she slept, but only for a moment. Shivering with cold, she started up and looked round the room. The old man was gone, and her child—it was gone too!—the old man had taken it with him. In the corner of the room the old clock began to strike; “whirr” went the chains, the heavy weight sank to the ground, and the clock stopped; and the poor mother rushed out of the house calling for her child. Out in the snow sat a woman in long black garments, and she said to the mother, “Death has been with you in your room. I saw him hastening away with your little child; he strides faster than the wind, and never brings back what he has taken away.”

“Only tell me which way he has gone,” said the mother; “tell me the way, I will find him.”

“I know the way,” said the woman in the black garments; “but before I tell you, you must sing to me all the songs that you have sung to your child; I love these songs, I have heard them before. I am Night, and I saw your tears flow as you sang.”

“I will sing them all to you,” said the mother; “but do not detain me now. I must overtake him, and find my child.”

But Night sat silent and still. Then the mother wept and sang, and wrung her hands. And there were many songs, and yet even more tears; till at length Night said, “Go to the right, into the dark forest of fir-trees; for I saw Death take that road with your little child.”

Within the wood the mother came to cross roads, and she knew not which to take. Just by stood a thorn-bush; it had neither leaf nor flower, for it was the cold winter time, and icicles hung on the branches. “Have you not seen Death go by, with my little child?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied the thorn-bush; “but I will not tell you which way he has taken until you have warmed me in your bosom. I am freezing to death here, and turning to ice.”

Then she pressed the bramble to her bosom quite close, so that it might be thawed, and the thorns pierced her flesh, and great drops of blood flowed; but the bramble shot forth fresh green leaves, and they became flowers on the cold winter’s night, so warm is the heart of a sorrowing mother. Then the bramble-bush told her the path she must take. She came at length to a great lake, on which there was neither ship nor boat to be seen. The lake was not frozen sufficiently for her to pass over on the ice, nor was it open enough for her to wade through; and yet she must cross it, if she wished to find her child. Then she laid herself down to drink up the water of the lake, which was of course impossible for any human being to do; but the bereaved mother thought that perhaps a miracle might take place to help her. “You will never succeed in this,” said the lake; “let us make an agreement together which will be better. I love to collect pearls, and your eyes are the purest I have ever seen. If you will weep those eyes away in tears into my waters, then I will take you to the large hothouse where Death dwells and rears flowers and trees, every one of which is a human life.”

“Oh, what would I not give to reach my child!” said the weeping mother; and as she still continued to weep, her eyes fell into the depths of the lake, and became two costly pearls.

Then the lake lifted her up, and wafted her across to the opposite shore as if she were on a swing, where stood a wonderful building many miles in length. No one could tell whether it was a mountain covered with forests and full of caves, or whether it had been built. But the poor mother could not see, for she had wept her eyes into the lake. “Where shall I find Death, who went away with my little child?” she asked.

“He has not arrived here yet,” said an old gray-haired woman, who was walking about, and watering Death’s hothouse. “How have you found your way here? and who helped you?”

“God has helped me,” she replied. “He is merciful; will you not be merciful too? Where shall I find my little child?”

“I did not know the child,” said the old woman; “and you are blind. Many flowers and trees have faded to-night, and Death will soon come to transplant them. You know already that every human being has a life-tree or a life-flower, just as may be ordained for him. They look like other plants; but they have hearts that beat. Children’s hearts also beat: from that you may perhaps be able to recognize your child. But what will you give me, if I tell you what more you will have to do?”

“I have nothing to give,” said the afflicted mother; “but I would go to the ends of the earth for you.”

“I can give you nothing to do for me there,” said the old woman; “but you can give me your long black hair. You know yourself that it is beautiful, and it pleases me. You can take my white hair in exchange, which will be something in return.”

“Do you ask nothing more than that?” said she. “I will give it to you with pleasure.”

And she gave up her beautiful hair, and received in return the white locks of the old woman. Then they went into Death’s vast hothouse, where flowers and trees grew together in wonderful profusion. Blooming hyacinths, under glass bells, and peonies, like strong trees. There grew water-plants, some quite fresh, and others looking sickly, which had water-snakes twining round them, and black crabs clinging to their stems. There stood noble palm-trees, oaks, and plantains, and beneath them bloomed thyme and parsley. Each tree and flower had a name; each represented a human life, and belonged to men still living, some in China, others in Greenland, and in all parts of the world. Some large trees had been planted in little pots, so that they were cramped for room, and seemed about to burst the pot to pieces; while many weak little flowers were growing in rich soil, with moss all around them, carefully tended and cared for. The sorrowing mother bent over the little plants, and heard the human heart beating in each, and recognized the beatings of her child’s heart among millions of others.

“That is it,” she cried, stretching out her hand towards a little crocus-flower which hung down its sickly head.

“Do not touch the flower,” exclaimed the old woman; “but place yourself here; and when Death comes—I expect him every minute—do not let him pull up that plant, but threaten him that if he does you will serve the other flowers in the same manner. This will make him afraid; for he must account to God for each of them. None can be uprooted, unless he receives permission to do so.”

There rushed through the hothouse a chill of icy coldness, and the blind mother felt that Death had arrived.

“How did you find your way hither?” asked he; “how could you come here faster than I have?”

“I am a mother,” she answered.

And Death stretched out his hand towards the delicate little flower; but she held her hands tightly round it, and held it fast at same time, with the most anxious care, lest she should touch one of the leaves. Then Death breathed upon her hands, and she felt his breath colder than the icy wind, and her hands sank down powerless.

“You cannot prevail against me,” said Death.

“But a God of mercy can,” said she.

“I only do His will,” replied Death. “I am his gardener. I take all His flowers and trees, and transplant them into the gardens of Paradise in an unknown land. How they flourish there, and what that garden resembles, I may not tell you.”

“Give me back my child,” said the mother, weeping and imploring; and she seized two beautiful flowers in her hands, and cried to Death, “I will tear up all your flowers, for I am in despair.”

“Do not touch them,” said Death. “You say you are unhappy; and would you make another mother as unhappy as yourself?”

“Another mother!” cried the poor woman, setting the flowers free from her hands.

“There are your eyes,” said Death. “I fished them up out of the lake for you. They were shining brightly; but I knew not they were yours. Take them back—they are clearer now than before—and then look into the deep well which is close by here. I will tell you the names of the two flowers which you wished to pull up; and you will see the whole future of the human beings they represent, and what you were about to frustrate and destroy.”

Then she looked into the well; and it was a glorious sight to behold how one of them became a blessing to the world, and how much happiness and joy it spread around. But she saw that the life of the other was full of care and poverty, misery and woe.

“Both are the will of God,” said Death.

“Which is the unhappy flower, and which is the blessed one?” she said.

“That I may not tell you,” said Death; “but thus far you may learn, that one of the two flowers represents your own child. It was the fate of your child that you saw,—the future of your own child.”

Then the mother screamed aloud with terror, “Which of them belongs to my child? Tell me that. Deliver the unhappy child. Release it from so much misery. Rather take it away. Take it to the kingdom of God. Forget my tears and my entreaties; forget all that I have said or done.”

“I do not understand you,” said Death. “Will you have your child back? or shall I carry him away to a place that you do not know?”

Then the mother wrung her hands, fell on her knees, and prayed to God, “Grant not my prayers, when they are contrary to Thy will, which at all times must be the best. Oh, hear them not;” and her head sank on her bosom.

Then Death carried away her child to the unknown land.

Freedom

I was trapped inside a place that did not belong to me

I had no escape, no back door to run away.

I was stuck.

The wrong person stared at me when I looked into the mirror. 

People called my name and it sounded ugly. 

My name was ugly. 

I was ugly. 

I shaved desperately.

But there was one thing, I couldn't shave away...

I wish it would fall off, but there was no way to get rid of it.

It was the first thing I saw every morning. 

I hated it so much. 

It felt like a tumor or a parasite.

My outside was devouring my inside.

Whenever my inside tried to have a glance outside:

FREAK! FREAK! FREAK!

So my inside retreated, buried itself deeper inside, hid

in the darkest place,

the furthest away from the outside. 

 Like a Pearl hiding from it's own shell deep in the ocean

far away from the surface

waiting for it to be over.

But the monster haunted me,

it clutched on me like a tick. 

I took a blade

and killed the monster

and drowned in blood

and felt finally free.