THE FAULTS WITHIN OURSELVES
A BOOK BY ERVC
The protagonist of this novel is the author, who has spent his entire life battling the shadows of his own flaws and frequently finds comfort in solitude during introspection. The path is one of grappling with inner darkness, where the toughest critic is himself. The author speaks from the raw places of regret, failure, and the chilling knowledge that the deepest fights we confront frequently lurk within. With his words, he presents no simple path to salvation, only the harsh reality that the person looking back at you in the mirror is sometimes the most difficult to forgive and transform.
Puzzle Man
He built himself from scattered parts,
A piece for every broken heart, He wears the edges, sharp and rough,
But wonders, still, if he’s enough,
Had pieces of love that never made sense,
Regrets that felt like they belonged to someone else, But they were his, A puzzle man with missing bits, fitting where he never fits.
Hollow Shells
Are we hollow shells of ourselves?
Filling our emptiness with fragments of a past that never belonged to us, Are we searching for the fullness of what it means to be?
Not in the eyes of the world, but in the mirror, Where we face the truth we often hide, And the question is, Who are we protecting ourselves from?
To Valentine,
You are more than the sum of roses and chocolates,
More than love songs played on repeat, You are the pulse in my chest,
The breath I forget to take when your eyes meet mine,
So today, I don’t just say "I love you" Because it’s written on the calendar, I say it because I live it,
Because in your eyes, I find a better reason to believe in Forever.
CurseYou,Valentine
Curse you, Valentine, for the weight of this charade, For making me question my place in this world, in your world.
Do you see me as I am?
Or only the distorted image I present, Pressed into the mould of what love should be?
I want to love you, truly, But the roses, they mock me, Reminding me of all I can’t give,
Do you love me, or do you love the idea of me?
Curse you Valentine, for forcing me to confront these truths.
Scared Reflection
Who am I in this glass prison?
Hiding beneath layers of expectations,
I am more than this frame,
But the mirror won’t let me forget,
This weary figure caught in the glass, the sum of my fears, These eyes that gaze back at me, I see the faces of those who have defined me,
What if I am not the person they see?
What if am not merely a reflection?
The man in the mirror I will confront , not yet.
Yet God Heals
“Yet
God heals”, I remind myself, While holding onto the fragile hope, That even in the darkest nights, A new dawn will break, Healing is not a destination, But a journey we walk together.
The Masks We Wear
Maybe the masks we wear, Are nothing but smiles painted on our faces, Maybe each laugh we share, Is a heart yearning fiercely to forget,
So if I lift my mask, Will they see my worth,
Or is this just my one and only curse?
Regret,Valentine
And that scarring night, When death came to collect his fare,
I wish I had said I loved you,
Hoping those words would carry you to Heaven,
But I cursed you, and Now I live comfortably with this guilt in my heart,
That I will never see you again.
Forgiveness
I’ve learnt how to forgive you again with a borrowed heart that beats, unlike mine.
Lies
You said you were afraid to lose me, until you faced your fears and left.
A Silent Click
I pulled the trigger , and the gun didn’t fire, Instead, I woke up , Reminded of how I’m still breathing.
Forgotten Faces
I’ve lost my face somewhere between the mirrors. Forgotten the shape of my smile and how it feels to be myself again, they call it growth but they lie, My reflections have become a different stranger-all me, but none of them who I remember.
The Paper Judge
I was given a piece of paper once, Marked with my sins, I tried to read it, over and over, but the words kept changing every time, how foolish of me to not realise that I was condemned by a language I did not understand.
Waiting Room
I have been seated for hours, but no one has called my name, the others have left, but I remain seated, alone, I am not sure if there is anywhere to go.
Night Journal
I’m not drowning, just learning to swim in waters
I’ve never known, The currents don’t carry me away, They shape me instead, So if you ask if I am okay,
I would tell you that I am becoming someone I’m yet to understand.
Hollow
I miss you ten thousand times, I’d miss you even when I die,
I miss a million times,
I’d miss you even when I ran out of time, I miss you infinity,
I’d miss you definitely, I miss loving you, but I wouldn’t miss the memory of seeing you again.
The Sun and Moon,
I lied, they were never meant to be, the Sun’s gravity was too much to align with that of the Moon’s, He was of the day, and She was of night, Love was the only reason she lit up in the night sky, but they both knew, they were in the same space but different orbits.
To Little Me,
We found love, but cursed it instead, accepting a monster to roam inside our heart, we tried smiling for the first time, but failed at being convincing, I wish I was a better you than I am, Maybe you will change things for us.
These words have never failed at healing me, the blood I’ve left to dry on these pages, testaments of my pain, of my joy, of everything that I am, words never seem to fail me because I am at my happiest when I write.
Im-perfect
It took you losing me to realise how imperfect being perfect was and now that you’ve found me again I’m hopeful that you’ll love my flaws.
Quiet Time
Time may be slipping but I’m still here and for now that is enough.
Your Own Words
I wonder if the person I’m becoming will… if these flaws I’ve feared will ever… but maybe the pieces I hide are meant to… I’m glad you finished it in your own words.
Dysmorphia
What are these hands?
This face?
These layers of skin I hate to see
My body has become the thing I hate the most and I can try to fix it to reshape it into something
I love, but it refuses it resists.
I see it, The hope I’ve been lingering onto Finally, I feel still.
Thank you for loving this beautiful destruction called poetry.
-ERVC