A delicate needle of bone and of grace
She pierces the leaf in a quiet embrace
And gathers the silk that the spider has spun
To pull through the green where the teardrops were shed
And tailor a home where her heart can be fed
​We curl in the dark when our spirits are torn
Too frightened to fight with the weight of our grief
Forgetting the soul was created to mourn
That beauty is shaped when the fabric is worn
And strength is reborn in the light of the morn
​Why drown in the silence? so helpless and deep
When even the smallest of creatures takes stand? 
The power to heal through the coldest of storm
Will guide every step till the shadows depart
And crown us victorious, whole in the heart
So why do we fear to awaken our part?

— Brésis

A delicate needle of bone and of grace
She pierces the leaf in a quiet embrace
And gathers the silk that the spider has spun
To pull through the green where the teardrops were shed
And tailor a home where her heart can be fed
​We curl in the dark when our spirits are torn
Too frightened to fight with the weight of our grief
Forgetting the soul was created to mourn
That beauty is shaped when the fabric is worn
And strength is reborn in the light of the morn
​Why drown in the silence? so helpless and deep
When even the smallest of creatures takes stand? 
The power to heal through the coldest of storm
Will guide every step till the shadows depart
And crown us victorious, whole in the heart
So why do we fear to awaken our part?

— Brésis

A delicate needle of bone and of grace
She pierces the leaf in a quiet embrace
And gathers the silk that the spider has spun
To pull through the green where the teardrops were shed
And tailor a home where her heart can be fed
​We curl in the dark when our spirits are torn
Too frightened to fight with the weight of our grief
Forgetting the soul was created to mourn
That beauty is shaped when the fabric is worn
And strength is reborn in the light of the morn
​Why drown in the silence? so helpless and deep
When even the smallest of creatures takes stand? 
The power to heal through the coldest of storm
Will guide every step till the shadows depart
And crown us victorious, whole in the heart
So why do we fear to awaken our part?

— Brésis

Getting called pretty,
means nothing if you can’t feel it,
see it, be it to the maximum potential.

Try to change your randomly generated face given to you, 
through years of arranged marriage.
True love had nothing to do with it.

You’ll get called mop-head till curls are back in style,
and too dark till summer comes around.
You’ll have to tick “other” on documents,
you’re obviously not an option.
You'll never fully understand what you truly look like but you try.

You get called pretty,
yet you let it in one ear and slip out the other.
You get called ugly,
and it sticks till you’ve earned their approval.

Getting called pretty means nothing, you’re just pretty for the people.

Moves so gracefully,
Soft as the touch,
Mind filled with the rainbow,
Smile sweet like strawberries,
Heart sweet as plums.

A rose has no smell,
But looks so beautiful to the sight.

Like fire to the flame,
Ice to the water,
Fishes’ mouths move but no words,
Leaves with no branch,
Winter with no cold,
Heart to no mind,
House to no frame.

Shifting your thoughts to making it all about you.

Beautiful to the eyes, but what lies beneath?

Words dressed in sweetness, yet intentions unseen.

An ocean of thoughts, with no room for another.

Listening to respond, but never to understand.

Eyes that see but never notice.
Ears that hear but never listen.
Hands that reach but never hold.
A heart that speaks but never shows.

Giving the appearance of warmth, yet leaving others in the cold.

Standing among many, yet seeing only one.

Always finding the mirror, even when the reflection belongs to someone else.

Who are you, beneath all that I see?

You said I was mature,
Since I never ask for more.
I never asked for you to be there,
But deep down I really did care.
You said I was mature but I don’t know why,
Wether you said it to soothe me like a lullaby,
Or just so I didn’t cry.
You said I needed to be an adult,
I took it as an insult.
Everyone else got to be a kid,
How come I never did.
When I was fourteen you told me I had to fight for myself,
While you did everything for everyone else.
You didn't give me the chance to be a child, 
I never got to be wild.
When you told me that I was mature I took it as a complement,
I didn’t even know what half of it meant.
You said to show responsibility and amiability, so that people would love my personality.
I used my maturity to lull me into a false sense of security. 
Since I knew I wasn’t ready, all I felt was just unsteady.
All I wanted to do was go inside and play with my dolls, instead you put me in charge of these  neanderthals - the people who will make you and break you just to reshape you all over again, I just wanna go back to then.
To when my biggest problems were spelling test but now its pre- calculus. Now I lay awake wondering if my mom will come home alive from the store, why is this world so hardcore. I grew up to soon now I look like a buffon.
When you told me I was mature, now I realize it meant I had to endure. 
The trials, the fights, and the sleepless nights.
Maybe I wasn’t made for this life, I never asked to be your lifeline.
When you told me I was mature, it become a procedure. Wake up slave away, just like any ordinary day. 
Finally when my head hits the pillow, I’m supposed to feel like some kind of superhero but instead all I do is ache, as my heart continues to break. 
I carry the world on my shoulders, to the point I feel like a solider.
I never asked for this lifestyle, you put me on exile. When my only crime was being my mother’s daughter, so why have you put me up for slaughter. 
One thing is for sure, I never asked to be called mature. I took ot as a compliment, but I didn’t know the consequences it would implement. 
If I could go back and time, I’d take the words right out of your mouth, if it meant my life wouldn’t go south. 
In a different life, where I got to be a could bit instead I got defiled. I never got to be curious, instead I just became furious. At the life I was handed, what could have been but I knew deep down within I would never win. I knew it was fate, it was not up for debate. I didn’t even get the chance to hesitate, for it was all on my plate, I had no escape.
I thought my worth had to be earned and assured. I searched for a meaning, a reason, a cure.
I never even now what I was fighting for, I just couldn’t take it anymore. So therefore I learned to keep my feelings close, wearing your words like an unspoken oath. 
I thought my strength would make me sure,
But I was just a a child, when you told me I was mature.