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songs of despair behind the closed doors

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songs of despair behind the closed doors

Rina Inae
3 ratings

When I was three, my father dropped me into the water. It was one of those picturesque sunny days on a beach. I remember his charming toothy smile. His arms outstretched toward me as I was happily running to him through what back then felt like tsunami waves. And then, in a moment, I leapt into some other world. The transparently-thick water was pierced with rippling golden trapeziums. It was the most beautiful thing on Earth. I nearly drowned, and when my father picked me up with his strong, oblivious hands, he was laughing.

This is my very first memory – the memory of escaped death and the glimpse of its ethereal glory. Sometimes when I dream of drowning and wake up with salt receding on my gums, I wonder if I dreamt that somersault into the underworld too. Did I dream my apocalyptic teens and my untimely losses and my hollow hours and my desperate passages through the swapping buildings, rivers, winds, shadows of trees and all the characters passing me by, too? If I dreamt myself, what is left on the outside?

To me, this is a trip from the gaping trench that by many is considered the Reality. Then, everyone's plate is filled with their own calamity, everyone has different lenses in their glasses of tragedy which is life. This collection of poems written by me from 2019 to 2021 is an entry that leads to the magic that happens when a reader interprets author's creation as they feel. Brace yourself for this journey and let the unity of our visions create something new and beautifully horrifying. 


Content warning: dark themes, sexual content, death, suicide, self-harm 

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