Today I looked up how long it would take to burn How long can you hold your screams Before you can't hold your pain in any longer? How long until dreams give out? And the sound that fills the void Becomes words we fear the most Searching for the heart in our chest Today I stood in front of a window And Imagined what it would be like to fly No, I didn't I imagined what it would be like To destroy a self-made cage But my better judgment said it wouldn't be very smart If someone you cared about discovers you That's the voice that plays like a video on replay Replay It wouldn't be fair to a stranger either Today I'm reminded of watching tears Slowly disappear into the darkness Never to return when I was just discovering myself Felt a soul dim as it covered itself with lies We’re all standing at attention Staring off into the distance Just waiting for the road to clear So that our truths can finally be revealed But the comfort of our dark room becomes our armor Death can be a metaphor or an inconvenience There's a blank face hidden underneath That quickly and abruptly finds Its way to all that will witness It's not empathy It's not sympathy It's more of a force intrinsic and integral self reflection Why would someone do such a thing? What could drive someone to that type of solitude? Could I be driven to such heights? Would I ever be able to dream again? There is no place to be soft in these halls, jump There's no time to be caught in the past, burn There's no need to believe there ever was a dream, survive Sigh, believe, relief as it dies 'Cause I could never be the one to be in this moment Or could I? Silence Today I looked up how long it would take to burn Do you first hold your breath? Do you scream all of your fears and worries Before casting your thoughts to the bottom Of an otherwise empty place below the poverty line of forgotten dreams And the sad calamity of a haunted shell you've called home? I don't know Maybe someone out there has an answer But for now I'm still trying to come to terms of the fact That today I looked up how long it would take to burn

Growing up before the divorce of my parents I remember facing a lot of stigma some positive while others are negative. Due to my physical feature as a red-head, my heritage on both sides of my family, but also because of how diverse my home life as a young child was. My mother is to this day still a devoted christian while my father follows the beliefs of his ancestors, which today finds it’s place under the term paganism. People would take my red hair as an invitation to interact with me without even telling me their names. Kids and adults would make fun of me and my siblings for our lack of melanin and tell us we aren’t really a part of the Indigenous people of the U.S because we don’t look it. I personally follow the footsteps of my father when it comes to religious practice, although I do actively learn about Abrahamic religions. When I tell people my religious background it’s met with a lot of backlash and insults. Including condemning me to hell, trying to push a social narrative and lifestyle on me that I don’t fit in. That doesn’t suit who I am, it doesn’t mean I haven’t tried Christianity, I did, but in the end the treatment I faced, the words I heard didn’t seem like the Christianity I was raised with or wanted to be a part of. And throughout my life and the things I faced in different situations made me turn to telling stories on paper. I learned through exploration of writing, that it was my passion, more than a hobby, it was something that I wanted to do. To tell stories that destroy demonizations of different cultures beyond the U.S, and honestly hopefully destroy the demonizations that are committed in our own nation. Social stigmas that continue to damage societies, that ring with hard or easy truths. Reading allows me to see how literature can make or break nations or empires, be a glimpse or an easy doorway to history, the cultures of the past, the opinions of writers, steps towards better futures, and even be used as a glimpse into ourselves. While most historical works are written by victors or in biased views, which leads to redactions of entire sections of history or harmful misconceptions. I personally feel that literature can be a large milestone to accomplishing feats that can further the process of solving social issues or stigmas, even if ultimately it does little. I strongly strive for my own works to not only be entertaining and loved, but also sources of learning of realizations.

The attached file is still a work in progress, therefore may be revised throughout it’s creation.