All posts by Edisonwrites

Dear Son,

I send this whisper, 

A whispering message to you. 

Listen carefully, Son. 

When your hands have toiled, 

And your back bends beneath the world’s heavy burden, 

I am sending you to go, touch someone. 

Dear Son, 

When the well of your spirit runs dry, 

When even the sky feels heavy, 

When you’ve done all you could, 

When shadows in your solitude become unfriendly, 

Rush. Go, and touch this person. 

Dear Son, 

Carry your trembling heart like an offering, 

Let him see the cracks that line your soul, 

Let him see your eyes, 

Baring the truth of helplessness. 

Go before him with no mask, no lies of “I’m fine.” 

Do not pretend you can stand when you are falling. 

Dear Son, 

Run to this person with your tears held in hand, 

Like fragile glass in trembling palms, 

Lay your brokenness before him, 

Go before him open as the sea under a bruised sky. 

Show your scars. 

Lay your vulnerability down at his feet, 

Every piece of you.

Dear Son,

You ask, who is this person I must touch? 

You ask, why must I touch a stranger? 

Does my voice speak of departure, 

Or a farewell soon to come? 

No, Son. 

This is not a call to leave, 

But a journey to where you truly belong. 

Remember when I said, 

Expect nothing from others? 

This is different. 

Dear Son, 

This is not expectation, 

This is finding your way back

Way back to the hands that first molded you from dust. 

Touch Him, the all-powerful. His name is God. 

Hold on to Him like the wind holds the storm, 

Until He blesses you. 

Dear Son, 

Grip the edge of His garment, 

And do not let go until your heart beats lighter with His blessing. 

From DadDa

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Dear son,

Like a bird that never builds its nest alone on a tree, 

I have perched to have this intimate moment with you. 

You asked me a question, one that ripples through my soul: 

Is it easier to forgive others or oneself? 

Son, your question was like opening a thousand-page book, 

But I will summarize it in few lines.

Dear Son,

You know I dwell within your thoughts, 

I hear every beat of your heart, 

I sense every unspoken word. 

I know the battles you wage in the silence of self-forgiveness. 

It’s easy for you to forgive others, 

But when it comes to yourself, 

The burden grows heavier than mountains. 

Forgiveness was never meant to be easy, 

But it is a choice you must make for the common good

Dear Son, 

I see you, beating yourself down with the whip of your mistakes, 

You’ve turned your body into a battlefield, 

Your spirit into a prisoner of regret. 

Son, there are no superhumans, 

Only those who grow through the cracks of failure. 

Mistakes are not chains,

They are the staircase leading to progress, 

A painful but necessary step toward growth.

Dear Son,

I hear you now, wondering, 

“What if my mistakes become too heavy to bear? 

What do I do when everything I touch turns to dust? 

How can I rise when every step forward leads to another fall? 

How long can I endure failure?” 

Son, you’ve forgotten how grand your vision is! 

It is easier for a mountain to pass through a narrow gate 

Than for big dreams to fit into the space of small expectations. 

The bigger you dream, the higher your chance of failure, 

But that’s the nature of growth.

Dear Son, 

Don’t worry about everyone else

The world is full of those who settle for less. 

The larger the dream, the more daunting the path, 

Hold tight to your vision, 

Forgive yourself for the stumbles along the way, 

For without failure, success would never exist.

Dear Son,

When forgiveness is not woven into your soul. 

You will find that the journey becomes longer, 

The burden heavier 

Son, forgive yourself, 

For in that act, you will find the peace and happiness you seek. 

I know you are wise, 

And I trust you will make the choice

Stay strong,

Until I write again.

DadDa

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Dear Son,  

I know patience is fast slipping through your fingers, 

And hope feels like a mirage. 

They call you a failure, 

But they don’t know the picture we saw, 

The vows entwined in the fabric of our bones. 

We swore never to let go, 

We swore never to lose sight of the glittering future, 

Even when it seems invisible now, 

Even when the night is becoming endless, 

We promised never to let go

Never! 

Dear son, 

I see the heaviness inside your eyes, 

I see the dreams still unborn, 

But the visions are still valid, Son. 

The many dreams are possible. 

Remember, Son, those dreams are tied to saving others. 

Remember, it wasn’t just about you, 

But for all the souls intertwined with yours.

Dear Son, 

Each time you bow your head in despair, 

I lift your chin toward the horizon, 

For you were not born for defeat. 

You were born to be the founder of empires; 

There are destinies in the palm of your hand. 

If you fall, many will fall with you, 

But I know your heart, Son. 

I know compassion runs in your veins, 

I know you can’t watch them drown.

Dear Son,

Giving up is not just a surrender of self, 

It’s a sentence for the many lives tethered to yours. 

I saw you thought death would be your relief, 

I know the stress is much, Son. 

But your giving up will be a death sentence to others, 

And I know, Son, 

You would never let them suffer.

Dear Son,

But I will never let you go. 

That’s why I pulled you back from the edge, 

Because, Son, when we look into each other’s eyes, 

We know

Our love runs deeper than despair, 

Our bond, stronger than any storm.

This letter, Son, is a plate of anchors. 

When the winds howl and the waves rise, 

Hold on to this: 

You will have everything you’ve ever dreamed, 

Everything you’ve labored for. 

This letter is your compass

To remind you why you began this journey.

I love you endlessly, 

Stay strong, Son. 

I will write again.

Love, 

DadDa

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HOW TO DRAW STRENGTH FROM THIS POEM

In this letter 3, part of the “Dear Son” series, I portrayed  a heartfelt message about the strength of perseverance, the power of self-belief, and the importance of hope. It is a personal message that addresses the emotional distress of feeling like a failure, the feeling of failure affects ones Psy wellbeing, the poem encourages the me first as the writer to keep moving forward despite adversity and I hope it does same to you reading this. The father figure in the poem reminds me to keep my dreams, though seemingly distant, are still valid and deeply tied to the well-being of others.

Key Lessons and Takeaways: how perseverance helps achieve dreams

At its core, this poem speaks to the importance of resilience in the face of doubt, It teaches us that perseverance is not just for personal survival but for the sake of those who depend on us. The powerful imagery highlights that giving up has a ripple effect, impacting not just the individual but those connected to them. The poem is a reminder that hope, while fragile, is an anchor in times of despair, and self-belief is a necessary foundation for success.

How to Maximize the Poem

You can use this poem as a source of motivation during moments of personal struggle. Reflect on the message about dreams being tied to the lives of others this is a reminder that our personal victories often carry significance for those around us. The poem can be a tool to encourage self-reflection, pushing readers to think about how their perseverance can positively affect others in their life.

Over to you!

What were the moment when you felt like giving up seemed like the easiest choice?

How did you pull yourself back? Or are you still stuck in it?

What impact did your decision to persevere have on the people around you?

Share your story in the comments and let others be inspired by your strength!

Dear son,

Life is like a flower with pollen grains, 

Every butterfly will come to feast,

They’re only drawn to your scent, 

But don’t be carried away, dear son, 

For every butterfly flies away once it drinks deep. 

If they land and find no nectar flowing, 

They will leave at the height of romance, 

Don’t hate them for it, 

But never believe they’ll stay when your flower withers. 

Don’t dare expect anything from anyone.

Dear son,

False hope is not always a trap. 

I mean, create it, build it

Build ‘em up tall and wide, 

But not upon any mortal man. 

Create a vision of the life you yearn for

Create your life and live it now,
Do not linger in the shadows of anticipation,
Do not wait for the world

For the world is full of everyone
Be the architect of your own fate.

Dear son,

I told you to fill your life with shimmering hope, 

But I didn’t mean to fill it with expectations. 

No, son! they say expectation breeds manifestation, 

My son, release the weight of expectation,

Not even from the divine.
Yes, I said God,
For He has gifted you a radiant mind
And if you neglect this

Even He will stand back.

Dear son,

When despair whispers depression

And the shadows creep in,
Remember this: I love you.
Though I told you to guard your trust fiercely,
Trust me, son. Trust me above all.
For I am the one who walks beside you,
The only one who sees your nakedness
I reflected back at you in the mirror
In that sacred glass, our spirits reach orgasm
I know your strength, your frailties, your battles.

I will stand with you until the end of time,
God won’t follow you to the grave,

But we will die together.

Dear son,

Never forget that I love you, 

Till death, dear son.

From DadDa

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Dear Son,

I couldn’t stay a moment without speaking to you. 

With every passing second, I miss you more, 

Like the sun that craves the embrace of the horizon. 

I hope this letter touches you gently, 

Like the breeze that carries a whisper of love.

Dear Son,

Each time we meet in the mirror, 

You see my smiles reflected back at you. 

Those smiles, are the notes of my everlasting love, 

Like stars that burn endlessly in the night sky. 

But know this son,

Our communion isn’t just in the mirror. 

I live within the warmth of your heart, 

A fire that never dims. 

Yet in the mirror, I see your strength, 

I see you’ve fought countless battles, 

A warrior who stands undefeated in the face of storms.

Dear Son, 

Let me remind you again, 

You are a great man, 

Stronger than the mountains that kiss the clouds. 

You are a victor, crowned in glory, 

Your wealth extends beyond gold

I see your light, son, 

Radiant and boundless, 

Outshining the very edges of this world.

Dear Son, 

Your name will echo through history, 

Like the endless ripples on the ocean of time. 

Even when the odds stand like giants before you, 

Even when victory feels far, 

You will win. 

You will win, son, 

And until that day, don’t you dare surrender.

Dear Son, 

Remember the words I whispered in the mirror, 

Those smiles that I painted across your face, 

Remember the way I danced for you, 

How I spun in joy, so you wouldn’t forget. 

When life becomes too heavy, 

When the weight of life presses you low, 

I’ll be there like a quiet force to lift the burden. 

Stay strong son,

until we meet again

From Dadda.

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September 02

Many years have passed,

The sound of trumpet and brass

It was like a call of solace.

So I pulled off the curtain;

They were worshippers.

They told me God was there,

They said it was the gathering of the saints.

So I watched them dance,

And I wanted to dance too.

Yesterday night,

I cradled my son through the silent streets,

Chasing the painted promises of a distant God..

I knew if I laid him down on the altar,

I would have him with me again.

So I rushed there at night,

Like the woman with the issue of blood.

Alas! ’Tis night, the guard clapped back:

“We can’t open the church for you to pray

Until when the saints are gathered.”

Tears fell like unanswered prayers,

As my son faded into the night,

On the solemn September 02..

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Yesterday, I lied
When I said those birds were singing for me.
Those sparkling smiles were just a shield.
I lied when I told you, “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t to scare you but to shield my scars.
I’ve got bullet wounds,
From bullet wounds to bullet dreams.
I’ve been a survivor of the unmerciful universe,
So I lied.

Today, again, I lied.
Yesterday had promised roses today,
But thorns pricked like forgotten dreams.
Like a bright facade, I masked it in laughter
While shadows whispered.
Each word like a heavy feather,
Hoping you’d believe the story I spun,
So I lied.

Tomorrow,
perhaps I’ll find the strength
To peel back layers of the tales I weave,
To let you in where silence now resides.
But fear holds tightly to the threads of tides;
The echoes of my battles still entwined.
Yet in this moment, I’ll wear my smile.
I’ll wear the smiles
Maybe one day, it won’t be a lie.

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I wear a mask,
A fragile mask that cracks within.
The jagged edges ring memories,
Memories of the love I let slip away.
I seek atonement,
Atonement from the people I cut,
leaving behind scars that never heal.

I’ve lost many loves I failed to nurture.
I watched angels walk away from me.
They say the value is known when it is lost,
But I yearn to live just once more
And find peace at last.

The echoes of my past still linger,
But there’s light in the reborn ,
Spark of hope in rebirth.
There is light in newness and rebirth

copyright 3rd september. Edison Michael

I won’t kill anymore.
I have been a serial killer.
I have killed a thousand times
Each life a fleeting spark extinguished in the dark.
I have murdered countless times,
Strangling dreams, pressing life into oblivion.
Year in, year out,
I plunged a dagger into the heart of dreams

yet gained nothing but desolation.
So I won’t kill anymore.

Are you looking for the serial killer?
Call me a repented murderer;
Perhaps you’ll bind me in chains of remorse.
But even in those cold, iron confines,
I will find a freedom more profound
Than the lightness of days long past.

I won’t kill anymore.
I have cleaved countless pieces of myself,
Becoming the beast within my own shadow.
I wore the crown of despair,
For I couldn’t forge the empire of my aspirations.
I’ve strangled the essence of life from my soul,
Punishing myself for every misstep and failure.
I’ve been a relentless tormentor to my own spirit
So harsh, for my failures have been many.
Yet I forgot: such trials are the crucible of our humanity.
Failure is the furnace in which resilience is tempered,
A necessary descent before the ascent.
So I repent
For the many deaths I’ve inflicted upon my own heart.

I’ve lived a thousand days within the maze of my mind,
A ghost haunting the fringes of reality.
Chasing the mirage of happiness I’ve never grasped,
Locked in a dance between rigidity and chaos.
Each mistake a blade, each failure a wound.
I’ve slain my own spirit with no sanctuary of grace,
Watched my tears fall like rain in the storm of addiction.
Yes! I’ve been ensnared by the crimes of my own making.
But now,
I won’t kill anymore.

Copyright, Michael Edison

Michael Edison 10/21/24,09:05am

ABOUT THE POEM

I wrote this poem ” Confessions of a Serial Killer” from a personal POV and life experience of overcoming self-sabotage and finding self-forgiveness after years of being trapped in self-destructive behaviors.

Written with deep introspection, I tried to capture the struggle of letting go of past mistakes and the commitment to stop being your own worst enemy. If you’ve ever felt the weight of regret and wondered how to stop self-blame and guilt, this piece will resonate with you.

It reflects on the pain of self-inflicted wounds and offers a message of hope for those seeking to transform their pain into personal growth. Embracing the theme of self-reinvention, I cooked this poem to serves as a reminder that healing from self-inflicted wounds is possible and that finding freedom in self-acceptance is a path  worth taking. I hope you enjoyed it as much as i do.

let me hear your thought in the comment section