Your words are Daggers, slashing Through my walls All the way to this crashing, Weak heart

Wounds open where you cut But over time they Become scars and shut ‘Till only traces tell of our decay

Your silence is A machine gun Or maybe a nuclear bomb?

Your silence is A direct crit hit It strikes once and kills

Yet you always Pull me back from the brink Like you can‘t part ways Though you attack without a blink

Is it that you need me, The reason you can‘t set me free? The problem is that I too Cannot live without you

I don‘t have the courage to say Let‘s bid farewell, End this cruel play Guess we‘ll be together even in hell

Do you believe This cold war can end? If you could please Stop this pretense

What keeps me here In this place full of despair Is a fear Of being beyond repair

The me you destroyed, The heart you tore to pieces And patched back together As you realized I was bleeding

It‘s so ugly now That even I abhor to look at it It‘s so unrecognizable That even I don‘t know who it is

Could you tell me honestly If this is really me? Could you cease your silence And make numb my senses? Could you please just Make me feel Like I am whole And help me Fill this hole Left empty By your Words

The air has changed.

While Sylvia is still writhing in pain, I, in my ecstasy of finally attaining the near godhood I have greedily sought for years, hardly feel the pain of my transmutation at all.

However, what I vividly perceive is the way my senses, no, my very essence changes while my Godsoup consumes me. My eyesight, sense of smell, even my hearing turn sharper every second until they reach their height. And yet…

All that I can see, hear, smell— all that _exists— _is silence.

How should I describe it… the scent of this silence, it is like the odor of snow, purest snow, the sort which covers the untouched mountain summits no soul could ever dream of conquering. It fills my nose, my lungs, my brain— And it hurts like hell.

Through the hazy fog of unimaginable and scorching agony, I vaguely make out a noise which sounds horrendous. After a few seconds it becomes clearer, and I realize those are my own screams. When the veil of fog lifts at last, sharpening my senses once more, my entire being is ignited by the pain, and my entire world filled with those screams as they swallow the silence smelling of snow.

I want to die! Make it stop, STOP!

An image of Sylvia flashes through my shredded mind. She is smiling, grateful to her superior for offering her a drink, for caring. Another image follows suit, of how the light in her eyes was extinguished the moment she drank my Godsoup. The realization in her eyes. Her agonized howling.

And the one responsible is me. Me alone.

It‘s alright, Jay. Pull yourself together. If you stand through this, it will be over. You‘ll be a god.

Like hell I will be!

Just hold on a little longer… __

I beg my mind to wander off, to somewhere where the pain cannot find me. If I just manage to leave this terrible place somehow, maybe I can sit out the storm somewhere peaceful until it is safe to return to the present. Where to run to? Just where can I stop hurting like this?

Look at this white gown, Jay. Do you like it?

Huh? What… is my mother‘s voice doing here?

As the question flickers in my mind, I am sucked into memories of the past. They flood me with such force that I am swept away from the lab where I lie broken on the floor, shaking.

My mother‘s gentle voice envelops me. I am waiting for her to get off work in the hospital, but she is just too busy. “Arey you done yet?“ I ask with the high voice of a child. Mom smiles apologetically and takes my small hand in hers. “I‘m sorry sweetling, but I have to return to my patients for now. Could you wait a little longer?“ I pout, disappointed. But mom has always been like this; she’s a hero, and heroes are busy saving the world; it‘s fine. I‘m not sick like her patients, after all. __ At home, dad pats mom‘s back while she wails like a child. It happens from time to time. She tries to act tough, but when my dad is around, she becomes soft and cries her heart out. I step closer hesitantly and pat her back, imitating my dad. He looks at me and smiles. “Look honey, our Jay is such a wonderful son. I‘m sure we won‘t need to cry so much in the future with him around. He’s our little sunray, after all.“ I return dad‘s smile, beaming with joy. Mom‘s wailing increases. “Why are people so weak, Paul? They live so diligently and die so easily. What is the point of me being a doctor?“ Dad hugs mom. “Don‘t say that dear. You save so many lives. Cancer is not easy to fight, we both know that.“ At her words, something inside me stirs. Are people really so weak? “Mom, dad, can‘t they just become stronger?“ I ask, unable to understand the limitations of human beings. “Jay, it‘s not that easy I fear. But mom and the other doctors are all doing their best.“ I nod, but somehow I‘m not satisfied, even as a child. __ __ My eyes spring open, breath heaving in my chest. I feel a slight ache in my heart, probably caused by the resurfaced memories of my childhood. But that is not important right now.

The pain has stopped!

I lean on my new muscled arms to get back to my feet, pleasantly surprised by the inhuman strength in them. Now my limbs are enhanced and my senses strong, my blood pumps through my veins at accelerated speed and I can move fast and easily.

I take a shard of glass from the ground where Sylvia had dropped the glass she drank from, and press it into the robust skin of my left arm. From above the elbow, I draw a cut as deep as possible down to my wrist. Thick, warm blood drips to the floor, mingling with the water from the glass. It is a nasty cut I inflicted on myself, but the pain is barely noticeable. I realize the psychological strain of seeing my arm sliced open is also nothing worth mentioning, and it quickly wears off.

Now that I think about it, the emotional shock from what happened earlier and the memories I saw have long dissipated too.

I see. So this is the scope of my Godsoup.

The cut on my arm heals within heartbeats, even harder and more robust skin regenerating over the sliced one. Not even a scar is left behind when it is done.

I smile. The feeling of joy inside of me is so overwhelming that I raise my arms, wishing to announce to the whole world that I, Jay Wen, have succeeded in turning mere lowly humans into beings worthy of being called gods.

Sylvia shifts in her corner of the lab. She must finally be coming to. When she opens her eyes, I turn to face her, my heart dancing to the music of the silence around me.

And then I break that heavily scented, all-consuming silence with my roaring voice:

“Rejoice, Sylvia, rejoice! We are the new humans.“ I reach out my hand to her. She looks up at me from where she lies in her blood. “We have transcended humanity. We have become gods!“

Sylvia stares at my outstretched hand. Something ferocious flares in her eyes.

Instead of taking my hand, she looks at my face as if she wants to gouge out my eyes and spits—spits!—right into it. With all the hatred she‘s got.

Now you‘ve done it, I think, a raging fury coloring my field of vision. My hands act before I can so much as think, and grip her head.

Snap.

Sylvia slumps on the floor, dead. I broke her neck. Oh my—

Well. It’s not as though she isn‘t replacable. She was just an experiment. My actual operation starts only now.

Now then, to turn the rest of the world to gods. I walk out of the lab with my fangs and claws. Towards my stock of Godsoup, large enough for half of the worlds population, buried beneath the city. That‘s right, the whole city is my yard, safeguarding my treasure. And from now on, I will use this treasure to bring about the real revolution the world is waiting for.

(Hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.)

Choking On my words Blocking Out the hurt

At least, I try Not to cry But I‘m drowning, I fear Drowning in my tears

Underwater, My voice stifled But am I really, Or do you just Not want to hear me?

Has the air stopped Carrying the sound? Or are your ears just Filtering me out?

Can you hear me, Pleading— Do you see me, Reeling?

You keep talking Like you do But why are you walking Away when I talk to you?

Dry my tears, Will you? Open your ears, Please pull me Out of this sea I want to speak!

Do I still Have a voice? Perhaps I was mute To begin with

My ears must be Deceiving me Since no one ever Hears my terror

(I know it was supposed to be “can“ not “can‘t“ but the latter just suits this peom better, it turned out this way somehow.)

In the wind We scatter Like ashes Lose altogether

In the wind We fly Like birds Far and wide

In the wind We find How weak we are How blind

In the wind We dissolve Slowly, like stone In water

In the wind We are cold To the bones, as if Our souls were sold

In the wind We cry For our eyes Become dry

In the wind We are free Like the leaves Of a tree

In the wind We wait For a shelter ‘Till we find…

…That there‘s nowhere to run.

It breaks not when it falls To the unknown, it calls

Its shine is pale and mute Still an unripe fruit

A diamond, unshaped Formless and ashamed

Her light slumbers So she knows not its wonders

She is a desert flower Oblivious of her power

Made to think she‘s dull When in truth she‘s not at all

Sometimes she forgets How alive she‘s inside, frets

That her light is not enough And she‘s hungry for love

But I will always be there To remind her, to care

Beacause she Is me

Look with your eyes, and you‘ll see There‘s so much more that you can be

Don‘t wait until others find How beautiful you are inside

For a diamond in the rough Is not where it stops

Make your own shape And call it your fate

There‘s a blade piercing my heart And I keep pushing it deeper I cannot let go Of the handle Lest you grip it Again. Hatred Keeps my hands tied My smile has faded Since you tried So hard to steal it. I cannot even smile When I look at the stars The moon mocks me With its ghostly light As I rot in a prison Made by you. Your castle of bliss was built With my bones as foundation. Crushed by your ambition I lie in this dark place Where time has halted And the earth stopped breathing Everything has died here Like me inside my shell. I ceased to exist But one thing still lives Burning ever brightly Scorching, boiling— My resentment For you.

I have always dreamed of revolution. Something that would send ripples through the world, tear it at the very seam— and turn it upside down.

Think of an hourglass. If there‘s a quake, it will shake, shake, shake and, if the quake is forceful enough, it will flip.

How wondrous! My hands ache for the sense of new discovery, of breakthrough!

That is why I schemed. A grand scheme indeed it is that I have devised.

Unfortunately, I ran into countless issues as I was trying to create a substance that could transmute living beings into higher entities. But I have persisted. And I will until I reach my goal. What I want to achieve is the perfect creation. It needs a lot of fine tuning to make certain parts of the body change exactly the way I want them to. I am almost finished on that. The alterations I have thought of and implemented in rats and other small animals are something I am rather proud of.

However, humans are different.

I was not able to try my “Godsoup“, as I call it, on humans yet. I had to perfect it first, to make people agree. But would they agree to let me change their bodies at my will? At the risk of their lives?

It doesn‘t matter to me whether they want it or not. What I need are test subjects, damn it!

The only problem left to solve is changing human body parts, which are much larger than and built differently from rats‘, without destroying them or killing the subject, and then creating a formula that can be used generally, taking into account that there are different body types and races. Key to that is, of course, that the subjects don‘t die on me during the transformation, as it is equal to causing evolution to happen but at a pace that‘s about a million years faster than the natural process. It is a challenge. And that makes it all the more thrilling.

All I need are subjects…

A voice tears me from my thoughts.

“Mr. Wen, the samples you asked for are ready.“

I turn around abruptly, raising my fist in a sudden fit of rage. A habit of mine. I don‘t like it when people interrupt me while I‘m thinking.

Ah, shit. What dumbass is—

My assistant stares at me, her face a question mark. “Mr. Wen? Do you want me to organize them for you or will you take a look right now?“

Calm down.

I put on my friendliest smile and take the samples. “I shall take care of this. But before that, Sylvia— could you help me with my experiments? There‘s something I‘m a bit…. stuck on.“ My smile does not falter for a second as a brilliant plan forms in my brilliant mind.

Sylvia gives me a curious look and follows me to a separate lab which I somehow got permission to operate for. This room is to work on my Godsoup, whereas in the other lab, with my partners, I work on my cover-up. That is, vaccine for some boring disease.

“I‘ve been wanting to have a look at what you do here for some time now,“ Sylvia said.

Yes, keep talking, I think. Let her keep distracting herself so that I can make my preparations…

Done.

“Sylvia,“ I say, diluting three drops of modified Godsoup in a glass of water. I hand her the glass.

“Remember to stay hydrated.“

“But Mr. Wen, we‘re not allowed to eat or drink in the lab.“

I smile conspiratorially. “I‘m giving you permission right now. Since it‘s only the two of us.“

She takes the glass. I gaze at her, hungrily. I‘m so close…

“Thanks, I‘ve been so absorbed in work that I didn‘t drink all day.“

There we go. The soup is down.

As she realizes, her face changes. There‘s something in her eyes that tells me I won‘t see “Sylvia“ as I know her— as a human— ever again. It‘s not just the shock in her eyes.

There was a light before, kind of like a sign that she is in there. Similar to a warning vest that kids wear in the dark sometimes.

But when she took my potion, it flickered… and died.

I blink. Before I can grasp this feeling, the moment is gone.

Her body changes, legs growing longer, fangs breaking out of her mouth, and her nails become claws.

This is the moment I had waited for. The revolution I dreamed of.

Glorious! More, MORE!

A laugh reverberates in my breast, resounding in the lab as Sylvia bleeds where her limbs tore to let new ones, better ones sprout.

When the transformation is complete, I sink to my knees in reverance.

_You really made it, Jay. _

I have created perfection. I have created… a God. So I take my Godsoup and shove it down my own throat.

Twirls and circles Twisted miracles Unfathomable tracks and etchings Like human‘s interconnections

Abundant in colour Some show fear, some valour It‘s not easy to understand Intentions, whether small or grand

Threads flow and intertwine Looking ever so divine Like a chain of humans Holding on to others‘ hands

We lean on one another As the patterns complement each other We hope that we‘ll be held But fear to be tossed away once beheld

Fragile wings, which to break I dread Like the ice, so thin, on which we tread Around all those people that Don‘t even truly know us yet

They flap in the wind and carry Sweet butterflies so merry Then kids chase after them Their purity untainted by all the sin We are slowly drowning in

High Like the sky Deep As the ocean reef

Blue The colour of ponderers You Dazzled by its wonders

Let‘s drown In this drunkenness My gown Is this teal bliss

It‘s calling to me This colour of splendour It calms this beast Makes me surrender

A drug, a remedy For this broken heart Torn by tragedy The blue a fresh start

Like a fish I gasp, beholding it I relish The blue, soothing my spirit

A myriad of shades Different and unique To hold it, I crave Forever, I seek

I am the end of every beginning. The light at the end of every tunnel is me.

Or perhaps darkness is more of a fitting image. But then again, that would mean the light never existed in the first place.

Death… that‘s what mortals call me.

No matter how much people fear and hate me, and however they once started, wherever they came from, whatever ranks or fortune they might possess;

Their stories end with me. It is the same for everyone.

Many people never think deeply enough to reach this realization, do they? Thus they never draw conclusions from it. That has always been a mystery to me, since it is a very simple fact.

I wouldn‘t go so far as to say life is meaningless. After all, why would it have come to exist in the first place, if that were the case?

On the countrary, life has a purpose, yet only a small number of select people ever seem to understand it.

The true purpose of life, that is. To become the best version of themseves, perhaps. Or to create a better world. If not that, at least a better neighbourhood. A better home.

And so almost everyday, I claim a life that had never fulfilled its purpose.

I wonder why people drown themselves in sin without questioning their beliefs, their actions, their every step. Because if you think about it, a human never knows what could happen next. I, Death, could come take them the next instant.

Yet they spend their time picking on others, badmouthing them, dropping bombs on other nations, which increases my workload and ends lives for no reason that could have flourished into beautiful creatures, they make laws that cause pain and injustice, they indulge in egoism, capitalism and all these useless and strange things.

Jeez, they must really think they can take their fortune to their graves!

Sometimes I really feel like the human race is becoming more primitive as time passes.

But what is it to me. I am merely doing my job. And they are merely rotting away.

(not my best one…)