The Unbecoming

It’s funny, they saybut there’s no laughter here.We handed you our brother,our joy, our cheer.A soul so bold, with hands that gave,Who worked and bled to shield and save. He called you family, stood by your side,Carried your burdens, swallowed his pride.He built your world while his own burnedAnd oh, the thanks he never earned. […]

They prayed for our silence, for darkness to grow,For thunder to drown every truth we might show.They prayed for the cold to seep into our flame,While smiling like saints and cursing our name. We prayed for their peace, for their children to sleep,For joy in their harvest, for roots planted deep.We asked for the light

No blood was spilled, no blade was drawn,No battle raged from dusk till dawn.But still, a soul was dragged downhillSo tell me, friend: did you not kill? You said no curse with lifted hand,No gun, no rope, no violent stand.But sharpened tongues and silent spiteCan snuff a soul like endless night. You badmouthed him when

“A snake only sheds its skin to become a bigger snake” He watched her weep with silver eyes,A storm of sorrow, soft disguise.She said the past was dead and gone,That she’d awoken with the dawn. She shed her sins like serpent skin,Promised love would bloom within.He held her close despite the ache,Believed her vow, for

He was born with sunlight in his chestA laugh that spilled without request.Even sorrow couldn’t stay,He’d joke it down, then laugh away. His siblings teased“He’ll laugh at pain!”And still, he’d grin and play the game.A walking spark, a flame in skin,He lit the room just walking in. He danced with joy, he lived out loud,A

A dad who had done it all for his kids,Endured the storms, the falls, the skids.Sacrificed every dream, every callNo pride, no pause he gave it all. He only cared about their needs,Their laughter, comfort, daily feeds.That was enough to make him stay,The man who went all the way. He made sure they were always

She greets with charm, but masks a snare,A queen in shadowed, deadly lair.She does not love, she seeks to own,To sit on thrones not hers alone. She whispers poison in his ear,Inflates his pride, then feeds his fear.She builds him up to bring him low,And feasts upon his weakened soul. Her counsel wraps in flattery,But

They used him, not just time or hands,But dreams he built like castle sands.They drained his light with hollow praise,Then vanished in his final days. He gave like rivers to the drought,A silent strength, a soul devout.He held their storms, their night, their pain,And never once asked back again. But when he rose, began to

It starts with warmth, a gentle sway,A whisper soft that draws its prey.A coil of charm, a smile so wideBut venom always learns to hide. He loved his blood, his kin, his name,Before the silence, before the shame.He laughed with brother, called him near,Till shadows fed upon his fear. The python curled with perfect grace,And

They say the lens reveals the soulA mirror framed, complete and whole.But sometimes light conceals the ache,And every smile’s a small heartbreak.One photograph, so clean, composed,Yet missed the war the heart imposed. A second before the shutter clicked,One soul stood still, heart worn and sick.They didn’t want it, not the frame, not the actBut chose