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I have known all those years ago that all things must come to an end, wisps of darkness that slowly entered the triangle made of glass that shielded a family, poison that slowly rotted that triangle as it cracked and cracked, until just a single blow will shatter that crafted design.

Shattered glass that as much as I held in my bleeding hands, painfully stuck as it stabbed in my veins and blood oozes out of it, carefully picking up the pieces, and maybe if- a while later gentle yet stable hands -maybe shaking a little, slowly uncurled the hands that bleeds uncontrollably, tears that clouded my vision flowed so much, yet I can't feel it, so maybe a little? Who knows.

But as those gentle hands, smelled of herbs or medicinal stuffs, bandages my bleeding heart, tickles a soft warm glow that slowly sifts through, made me realize that although it will not be the same as back then, one day, one day it will be okay.

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Things about myself(Ignacio)

Hi I'm Jacob I'm a 12 year old boy who’s gonna turn 13 next February and I'm born in February 13 2012 my zodiac sign is a aquarius and my Chinese new year zodiac sign is the Year of the Dragon I used to live in Laguna sampablo and now I moved in Las Piñas I went to school in Dona Manuel elementary school or DMES and now today or nowadays I learn in APEC School’s now

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Memento Mori

Remember death, Remember to die, Remember we all die.

There once was a grove shrouded in perpetual twilight. Said to be cursed, where mortals could enter and never return.

A siren song pulling you into its depths.

One evening, a woman by the name of Clara. In the grove it was dark, with no lantern to shed light, for there was no way out, only in.

Up ahead was a pond, its light twinkling in the dull sky. In the pond Clara went and knelt beside it, staring at the calm. For the pond bore no reflection.

Clara saw her husband, who had gone before her, her children, their eternal laughter buried deep inside her mind.

Clara heard a deep, calm voice "Are you ready?"

She turned, there stood a figure, not quite a man, nor a woman, neither young or old. It was made out of bones, but not terrifying. It looked calm, like it was asking her to come with.

Clara replied, "I am."

The figure extended its hand, Clara took it with delight, knowing she would be with her husband for eternity.

Together they stepped into the pond, the water split, revealing a light, as she sank into it, she felt relief.

Then time stood still, the grove was once again silent, waiting for the next weary soul.

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"Mental Health"

Mental Health, two words we often hear

But do we care?

Some don't take it seriously

But it might be a serious case when they can't find them elsewhere

Trapped in this mindset

Where no one bothers to care

Where nobody bothers to listen

Always looked down upon

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Pain and suffering, they are all I know

Cause kicking and punches, that’s all they throw

Wishing on a shooting star seems pointless

When our situation look so hopeless

‘Let’s burn it to the ground and start anew’

‘Let’s burn it from the ground to make it through’

Whispers of desires I cannot exclaim

For I sure will have no head left to blame

So I wonder who will take the first step?

Sharp-like eyes waiting for that one misstep

Brandish your sword as we fight to death

Fight for peace, until your last final breath

From morning to dawn, ‘For peace’ we proclaim

Bloodshed on our land we have to reclaim

Through words of poetry, we hone our knives ,

To fight for family, peace and our lives.

So ready your weapons with all your might

Fighting for our peace, family and right!

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As the agonizing punches were hurled

I ask you, what is fairness in the world?

Infamy and atrocities they act

For their preyful deeds made us caged and trapped

Such strong emotions have yet to unleash

Should they tolerate it until they cease?

Their actions, though hurtful, we dare not name

Because for sure they’ll say ‘we are to blame’.

Their tainted sorrows waiting to unpack

The breeze heard their plight, 'why won't you fight back?'

Words stuck in throat, silence cover as mask

Though I wonder, will a cornered dog bite back?

Dagger on scabbard, we hold no malice

For we only wish to stop this madness

But fear not, although we have grown weary

If it came down to it, we show no mercy

Fear and judgment will only last so far

A hidden blade glinted a lasting scar

They shout and said, 'fortune favors the bold'

As echoes of wars and bloodshed unfold

Through mystic words and poetry they fight

Singing a melodic tune for their right 10

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"Death"

For I was afraid of you're arrival, hence you show me how important my exsistance are .

Mesmerizing glommy out of no where

appreciating life like a knife

emmitating dullness to the fullest

Death is like a birth for it will bring pain and fulfilment

The sorrow of a soul and

irreplaceable hatred towards people

Love til death is like a curse

A thirst of justice

Should be served

rather than to be observed

Life is like a wind

it can bring drought or ease

Driving to success and hatred

Fullfilment is a masterpiece

Once in a lifetime

and may older than a centuries.

When I was writing this poem, I realized that death is not scary but should be appreciated. The one thing that really scares me is when I couldn't find the purpose of my existence.

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Short Story

Three lines woven together by fate and bound by a thread, never separating they said,

'We'll be together' one said.

'Together forever' another cheerfully chirps.

'Forever and ever!' finishes the last.

So one by one the three of them play together, fighting against cruel winds, even as force try to untangle their fates, surviving against all odds.

'Is this it?' staring in trepidation.

'After all we've been through!?' one says angrily and growing a sense of horror.

'I guess this is the end' sighs resigned as they look at the impending doom that'll eventually separates them as a whole. Until fate deems them worthy being together again. But even then, they might have not been the same as they where today.

Because eventually at the end of the day, all good things must come to an end, as gentle hands cradle a child's head, the comb sifting through their hair as the moon shines softly through the midnight sky.

- Braids