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Radu Cirsteanu is participating in the 5th International Literary Creation Competition from Bucharest, Romania and is 17 years old. We thank for the participation and wish her success.

Automated grief

Everyone tells me "smile more!"
"You certainly have reason to!"
And I do, don't get me wrong
But why is apathy so bad?
Why must i always feel?
Can't you let me stay down
So I've nowhere to fall from?
Maybe someday I'll make peace
With this carcass of a world we live in
Until then, home will be
Where the mind is.

But in that home, cozy as it may be
There is a room with peeling wallpaper,
A single dim light bulb,
Mold in every corner
And carpets damp and smelly
With a single chair and a belt
Worn from years of use
Where a tall slim figure
With eyes like the sea
Lashes himself, same time each day,
Then gets up and bangs on the window,
Begging to be let out;
His little fists all red and cramping,
He stares at them filled with hatred,
Ignoring the wide open door,
Plotting his revenge.

Revenge on what?
I'm not even sure anymore.
Someone? Something? Society?
All I know is someone has to pay.
They will, oh yes they will 
The sky will bleed, the trumpets roar
And I will kneel them all, sword in hand
Declare "Let justice be done!"
Yes, that's it!
Oh finally, an emotion!
That must be it, I've done it!
Here I am, world, smiling like you told me to!

But deep down, I know, 
Oh trust me I know
Just how empty those threats were.
I won't do anything
I can't do anything
Just lie back down and brace
For another restless night
Wondering why I've perpetuated the cycle again
Though I'm exhausted, my eyes won't close;
No amount of sleep can fix
The kind of tired I've become
So I lie there, analyzing the ceiling
Face unmoving, just as always
Wishing I could cry about it.

But inside I am!
I swear I am!
And no one can see it
No one can hear my plea for help
I'm cold, so, so cold
Help me, someone, please!
But nobody came.
I just sit there, sobbing away
Until something presses the back of my skull
The gun of rationality, locked and loaded
He's doing the right thing, I know,
But in that moment all I want
Is to be human, just a while longer
Won't he let me have that, at least?

And there he goes, another down
I tremble lightly, but alas
It's times like these I must remember 
Who I am, 
If I even am
Because when I search for myself, all I find
Are mirrors, weaving whispered figures
Abstract, twisting, staring back
Waiting for some kind of answer
But I can't, lord knows I can't
For the life of me figure it out;
To the ends of the world I'd go
And further beyond
To stamp "final" on the cover,
To finally fill out the sketch
Faintly drawn upon the paper
Twisting lines, over twisting lines
Erased again and again
They make up something
Though I can't tell
What movie or game or book 
It's stolen from this time.

My body boils, yet my soul is numb,
Hands are gently shaking on the handle
As I pick up my trusted shovel once more
And dig another hole, in line with the others,
Bury whatever's left
And mark my name like always,
Grieve in silence, eyes fixed on the grave
No rain, no birds, no wind, no words
Just deafening silence
Broken at the end by a barely audible "I'm sorry"
As I make for my bed again;
Tomorrow is another day
Forecast is cloudy, perfect
For another set of funerals.


Frostbite

The snow white castle
Atop the jagged peak
Crumbling to the ground;
I'm still stuck,
I'm still here,
Wandering through the labyrinth of mirrors,
One more twisted than the other,
Makes me forget my own appearance
When was the last time I saw the sun?
I chase the cry of a child in some unseen chamber,
Always seeming so near,
Yet somehow out of reach.
He sounds familiar,
Like he told me I'm an idiot once before;
The wounded aren't healed in this world
The wounded are preyed upon.
Am I looking for him to save him or hurt him?
I don't know.
And i hate that I don't know.
I'm just so tired.
I want to sleep
In the pale snow outside;
Let my body freeze over
Or might it heat up?
I'm so scared 
Of seeing the sun
And its purple canvas of the sky.
I'll cover my eyes, forever
Take my hand 
And tell me how my story ends
When I'm stabbed,
Will I roar or will I whimper?


The loneliest

Night has fallen and I'd hoped
I could lay down these boulders
Digging into my shoulders, but alas
Night has fallen, yet here I lie
Staring at the ceiling 
Or perhaps beyond it,
Hoping it might curve itself into a hug;
My pillow hasn't talked to me in a while
For it must be sick of me too
No matter how much water I drink
My throat remains scorched
From all the matches I have swallowed
Hoping they'll bring a spark of heat
To this frigid being of mine;
A soul that's wondered through the desert
Until it forgot its own name.

Oh Menily, to thee
I declare these verses,
For in nights like these I find
Your pale glow through my window
A small oasis of solace
And perhaps you feel so too;
Is your radiance upon the darkness
Not a motive of envy from the stars?
Do they not loathe your beauty
And pray you get extinguished?

Oh Menily, sweet child,
Lone beacon of the night
If only I was taller
I could reach my hand to you,
Perhaps you'd find some comfort,
For it is nights like these
Where I stand at my window,
Frozen in your light,
That, swallowing it, it ails my throat
And the boulders feel lighter
Still, I cannot help but wonder,
Oh diamond of the sky, my healer,
Who will be the one to heal you?