On the checkered fields of war, the king prepares.
Overlooking his devoted bishops roam,
Knights gallop in a calculated play,
Every move is a step towards victory or vanquish.

I am not hoping for your return, 
I am hoping to let it burn 
I am not hoping to forgive, 
I am hoping to relive

Trudge pass with fondness 
Broken into shreds and mutilated; 
The weeping heart screams for awareness 
Mental capacity seems frustrated. 

It was during May of 2022 that several events took place that would herald the beginning of a new chapter in my life. It was a tumultuous period for me, and my family as well. It all started with the Spring 2022 term ending, and to put it simply, I had flunked it completely.

I always knew the people around me were more aware of my size than I ever was. I don't remember what specific age the shape of my body became the only thing that seemed to define me. But, what I do remember, are the moments that pushed me to become extremely obsessive with my body image.

Where once the heart was heavy, now it learns to be free,
To forgive as Christ forgives, with grace and purity.
Mercy falls in the shadow of the cross,
Where love redeems what once was lost.

In the garden of Gethsemane, 
we plant the seeds of love and sorrow.
Each flower is a memory; each thorn a lesson to gain, 
graciously grown but through agony learned.

I lie awake
Listening to the howling wind
How long have I been up for?

As the days go by
I lose memories of you
Forgive me my love

Throughout the hazy day,
My temperature soars like birds in the sky
I hear the strange voices chanting in the distance.

I long to be home.
Coughing up blood in this room,
Pain unbearable.

She sits in the chair,
totally unaware.

As she wasted away in her hospital bed,
the deadly disease would spread.

Room spinning around,
Stomach curdling each second.
Can’t hold it inside.

Lack of air supply
I feel like I am dying
Will I ever breathe?

“Little Children Little Children beware for he watches you with a treacherous stare. Little children. Little misbehaving children take care of you must always be aware.”

I sit alone in this empty room,
Where memories linger and shadows loom,
The clock ticks on but time stands still,
As I wait here, right where you left me, still.  

In the quantum realm, particles dance. 
Uncertainty weaves their fate— 
They exist in superposition, both here and there. 
The future, a shimmering haze of probabilities.

Morning mist veils the landscape, 
Softening edges, blurring boundaries. 
We step into the unknown, leaving traces— 
Footprints dissolving in the ethereal.