Elephant in the Room: A Poem

All there is, is empty air
between two people
Merely a hand's reach away
Worlds apart

You ask me why
I'm so distracted
And my eyes wander to
the other end of the room

Can't you see it too?
The way it struts around
calling for attention
with no sound. So loud.

Thump. Thump. Thump.
Are those its footsteps?
Or the sound of a heart beating?
Yours or mine?
I can never tell.

"I miss the way we used to be"
Don't look away
It's staring at you
There. Right in the face

It's jumping through hoops
woven out of strings
of the words we never said
Tell me you see it too

There's an elephant in the room

Are you planning on shooting it down?

--Karin Novelia, Waiting For One Us To Break the Silence

Behind The Mask

Put into this world, here we share the stage
Each threading the costume we choose to wear
Acting out the characters we choose to be

Then comes a scene thats uncertain
That shakes the foundation of our faith
And shackles us with chains of fear

We take off the costumes we once treasured
And wear the design of another man
Putting on masks to better hide ouselves

A mask of insecurity and fake grandeur
A shield from emotions and reality
All just an illusion, a hopeless facade

As the story goes on, not written as it should
We tire of playing the same empty role
Of playing the same useless game

There comes a time when we realize
For however fleeting or brief a moment
Of the authentic person that lives within us

We surprise others, even ourselves
When we be who we're meant to be
Taking a step closer to who we are

The person behind the mask

--Karin Novelia, The One Behind The Mask

If Life Is A Story

(Just realized a day later that THIS IS MY 50th POST! Awesome! Writing had come so easy, that I didn't even realize it! Post 75, here I come! =D)

Letter by letter, word for word
Second into minutes, day by day,
Who writes my life's story?
Who writes what we say?

Who plans the next scene,
and imagines the next fight?
Who cooks up the plot,
to be read in the light?

If life is a story,
who holds the mighty pen?
If life is a story,
who decides when it ends?

Would the ink stay dry,
or be washed away by the tears?
Would the hero save the day,
and take away our fears?

If life is a story,
will the villian start descending?
If life is a story,
Will mine have a happy ending?

I am a mere writer, I cannot write the future
I can't save a life nor the world if I could
But I can write down the past, and dream of tomorrow
And pen down the next chapter, treasured as it should

--Karin Novelia, A Mere Writer