Most days slip by quietly—
wake up, eat, work,
go to bed.
Another page in the calendar,
nothing different.
But a birthday feels different.
It’s like the world leans in
for just a moment and says,
you were born,
and that still matters.
It’s not just cake or candles,
not just the messages that pile up
on your phone.
It’s the pause—
to look at yourself,
to see how far you’ve come,
to remember the child you were,
and the person you’re still becoming.
Other days remind us
to keep moving.
Birthdays remind us
to stop,
to breathe,
to be glad we made it
one more time around the sun.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 9:24 PM UTC
They never noticed
when she stopped waving back—
how her laughter faded
like music from a passing car,
how her shoes stayed clean
for weeks.
once, she chased rain
to the edge of the river,
barefoot, out of breath,
her shadow chasing behind.
they called her wild—
too alive to sit still.
but stillness came.
not with a scream,
just silence,
growing louder by the day.
no one asked
why her side of the bed
was always made.
why she didn’t hum anymore.
as long as she smiled
and passed her tests,
they assumed she was fine.
when they looked for her,
the water led the way—
not the current,
but the quiet reflection
she once stared into
a little too long.
when they found her,
she looked almost asleep.
hair spread out like grass,
hands still.
no bruises—
at least,
not the kind they talk about.
maybe
she just wanted to know
what peace feels like
underneath it all
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 12:03 PM UTC
Who are you, with your stones so bright,
Tossed from your glass in the middle of night?
I watch, I wonder, I barely speak,
Yet your loud judgment feels so weak.
You mock the brick, the stone, the frame,
But your own walls wobble, all the same.
I’m new, I write, I try to see,
The cracks in your vanity, clear to me.
You point, you jeer, you love the show,
Blind to the shards that fall below.
Stone houses falter, that I know,
Yet glass, my friend, can cut just so.
Who are you, so certain, so loud,
When your reflection hides behind a cloud?
I’ll scribble my truth, small but true,
While you toss stones from your skewed view.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 11:54 PM UTC
I love some hearts, but they turn away,
The ones who love me, never stay.
I want to choose, but fate decides,
With those I like, love often hides.
I fear to love, I fear to lose,
I fear the pain I can’t refuse.
I long for life without this fear,
But then I see, it brings things clear.
Without the dark, the light feels small,
Without the pain, joy means nothing at all.
I can’t live with fear, can’t live apart,
It lives with me, deep in my heart.
This is the truth, the constant fight,
Between the love I want and the fear of night.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 1:08 PM UTC
I hate society—
not the word,
but the weight it straps to my back.
I hate judging eyes,
the kind that scan you like price tags
in stores you were never meant to enter.
I hate the whispers,
those secondhand sentences
stitched behind backs
then sweetened with smiles
when you turn around.
I hate the ungrateful—
the ones who drink from your cup
then ask why it wasn’t full enough.
I hate stone-throwers
in glass houses
who forget how loud
their own silence shatters
when truth hits back.
I hate the crowd—
the noise, the pretending,
the push to perform
when all I want
is to exist
in peace.
And sometimes,
I even hate the parts of me
still trying to belong
to a world
I no longer believe in.
Sep 17, 2025
Sep 17, 2025 at 11:43 PM UTC
Addiction sneaks in like an unwanted guest,
“Just one more,” it says, while I fail the test.
My snacks disappear, my shows pile high,
My phone rings a lot—do I even reply?
I swear I’ll quit… tomorrow, maybe tonight,
But it giggles and hides just out of sight.
It’s coffee at dawn, it’s scrolling till two,
It laughs at the promises I never keep true.
A messy old friend, both bitter and sweet,
Addiction’s the guest who won’t take defeat.
Sep 15, 2025
Sep 15, 2025 at 9:52 AM UTC
They raise their voice—
sharp as thunder breaking morning.
I sigh, roll my eyes,
but later find dinner kept warm,
a blanket folded at the foot of my bed,
the porch light left on.
School drains me—
assignments stack like bricks.
But my backpack holds books,
my teachers call me by name,
someone saves a chair for me.
Sometimes I ache
from being the one who always understands.
But my playlist still knows the lyrics
that hold me together.
And in the quiet,
I see the love that never left.
Sep 11, 2025
Sep 11, 2025 at 10:56 PM UTC
I was always afraid of loneliness—
and more than that, the dark.
It made everything feel heavier.
I cried quietly when no one was around.
I chased the light,
but it never chased me back.
It passed over me like I didn’t matter.
So the dark stayed—
not by choice, but by nowhere else to go.
At first, it scared me,
but then I saw what the light never showed.
The dark didn’t demand my smile.
It let me fall apart without questions,
gave me space to breathe.
Now I sit with it quietly,
and the shadows finally feel like home.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:08 PM UTC
I asked for peace.
Life gave me silence, disconnection—
and nothing to scroll away the discomfort.
Canceled plans,
one painfully awkward dinner with my parents.
(Spoiler: it worked.)
I prayed for strength.
Life handed me
spilled coffee,
a broken umbrella,
and a boss who emails at 12:01 AM.
Turns out—I flinch less now.
(Okay, maybe once.)
I begged for purpose.
Life said: “Laundry.”
Endless, sockless, mismatched piles.
I folded.
Then cried.
Then wrote a poem about it.
Now it’s framed in someone’s guest bathroom—
right above the toilet paper,
which feels oddly correct.
I wanted blessings.
Expected glitter.
Got bills, back pain,
and unsolicited advice
from my aunt who sells protein powder.
(Still, her hug saved me once.)
Turns out, blessings are quiet.
Struggles don’t wear signs.
And sometimes,
growth is just showing up—
with tired eyes, mismatched socks,
and a heart that’s tired,
but still says, “again.”
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 1:01 PM UTC
Excuse me, miss, can I pass? they shout,
While spilling opinions, inside and out.
Smile politely, nod, don’t bite,
They’ll lecture you on wrong and right.
Excuse me, miss, why wear that?
Or: “Are you eating? Careful, fat!”
Excuse me, miss, your voice is too loud,
Or: “Too quiet—blend with the crowd.”
Excuse me, miss, you should try this,
Or maybe that, because heaven forbid bliss.
Excuse me, miss, hurry up, slow down,
They critique your shoes, your hair, your frown.
Excuse me, miss, sit still, stand tall,
Do both, do neither, they’ll judge it all.
Excuse me, miss, laugh more, don’t tease,
Juggle it all, and do it with ease.
Excuse me, miss, just be yourself, they insist—
Oh wait, never mind… did I miss the twist?
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 4:37 AM UTC