Ilovelanaa1k - Hello Poetry

I’m not scared of hard work, I’m scared of waking up one day realizing I survived my whole life but never truly lived it. And I know you may ask, Ari, how is that possible? Well maybe it’s because some of us wake up every morning just trying to make it through another day possible. We wake up and go, like the world never stops spinning, moving so fast through life we forget there’s a soul inside us slowly thinning. Sometimes we don’t even stop to look ourselves in the mirror and say, ‘You are enough. You are beautiful. You deserve to stay. Because truthfully, waking up every day can become a war within ourselves, fighting silent battles in our minds while still showing up for everybody else. Life has a way of kicking our *** so hard we stop noticing the sky, stop listening to our hearts, stop asking ourselves why. We become so focused on surviving that we forget what living means, burying our pain so deep it starts ripping through the seams. And maybe that’s the saddest part of all, how people can be drowning while still standing tall. Some nights I lay awake wondering if this pressure ever ends, if healing is a real place or just a lie people pretend. Because being twenty feels confusing, like being lost at sea, expected to know who you are before you’ve even had the chance to breathe. But I think courage is waking up anyway, even when your heart feels tired and weak, because sometimes strength isn’t being fearless, sometimes it’s surviving another week.

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May 11

May 11, 2026 at 10:03 AM UTC

The Art of Disappearing While Still Being Seen.

I’m not scared of hard work, I’m scared of waking up one day realizing I survived my whole life but never truly lived it. And I know you may ask, Ari, how is that possible? Well maybe it’s because some of us wake up every morning just trying to make it through another day possible. We wake up and go, like the world never stops spinning, moving so fast through life we forget there’s a soul inside us slowly thinning. Sometimes we don’t even stop to look ourselves in the mirror and say, ‘You are enough. You are beautiful. You deserve to stay. Because truthfully, waking up every day can become a war within ourselves, fighting silent battles in our minds while still showing up for everybody else. Life has a way of kicking our *** so hard we stop noticing the sky, stop listening to our hearts, stop asking ourselves why. We become so focused on surviving that we forget what living means, burying our pain so deep it starts ripping through the seams. And maybe that’s the saddest part of all, how people can be drowning while still standing tall. Some nights I lay awake wondering if this pressure ever ends, if healing is a real place or just a lie people pretend. Because being twenty feels confusing, like being lost at sea, expected to know who you are before you’ve even had the chance to breathe. But I think courage is waking up anyway, even when your heart feels tired and weak, because sometimes strength isn’t being fearless, sometimes it’s surviving another week.

46

I stare at the mirror, but she doesn’t know me, a stranger’s face looking back so lonely. Used to shine bright, now I’m barely glowing trying to find the girl who kept on growing You said you loved me guess that was a lie, now I wipe tears I forgot how to cry. You left your shadow where my light used to be, now I’m fighting ghosts that look just like me. The mirror whispers “Girl, stand tall,” but I don’t feel myself at all. Pieces of me scattered and torn, I’m still here, but I feel reborn. You took my smile, but not my soul, I’m learning pain can make you whole. so I’ll face that glass till I see clear, the girl I lost is still right here. One day soon, when I meet her eyes, I’ll thank the hurt that made me rise. Cause I found strength inside the fear now I love the face I see in the mirror.

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Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 12:56 PM UTC

My Own Reflection

I stare at the mirror, but she doesn’t know me, a stranger’s face looking back so lonely. Used to shine bright, now I’m barely glowing trying to find the girl who kept on growing You said you loved me guess that was a lie, now I wipe tears I forgot how to cry. You left your shadow where my light used to be, now I’m fighting ghosts that look just like me. The mirror whispers “Girl, stand tall,” but I don’t feel myself at all. Pieces of me scattered and torn, I’m still here, but I feel reborn. You took my smile, but not my soul, I’m learning pain can make you whole. so I’ll face that glass till I see clear, the girl I lost is still right here. One day soon, when I meet her eyes, I’ll thank the hurt that made me rise. Cause I found strength inside the fear now I love the face I see in the mirror.

20

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America but listen this pledge comes with questions. Because how do we say “Land of the free” without remembering whose land this was before thirteen colonies stitched themselves into history. How do we call human beings “illegal” on stolen land? We can’t be illegal on stolen land. I pledge allegiance to truth. To the first footsteps on this soil that were not European. To the bloodlines that existed before borders were inked like permanent scars across earth. And now we argue about U.S immigration and customs enforcement raids and roundups, about whom belongs and who doesn’t but excuse me are we not still under one nation? One nation. Indivisible. Or did we skip that line when the news got uncomfortable? They say protect the border. They say protect the jobs. They say protect the culture. But who protects the people whose only crime is hunger? is hope? is crossing a line drawn by men who never asked the earth what it wanted? And as for leadership A leader unites. A leader listens. A leader does not build his name higher than the people he’s sworn to serve. Donald trump. may hold a title, but a title is not the same as trust. A microphone is not the same as moral compass. Because we all bleed the same color. Red. Not Republican red. Not Democrat blue. Just human red. So why should immigrants be treated different? Why should people of color be treated different? When our veins do not segregate blood? I pledge allegiance to the idea that justice should not check passports before it checks humanity. I pledge allegiance to classrooms filled with accents, to neighborhoods that smell like ten different kitchens at once, to children who speak two languages and call this place home. This country is strongest when it remembers it is built by many hands. Black hands. Brown hands. White hands. Hands that picked cotton. Hands that built railroads. Hands that coded software. Hands that raised flags even when the flag did not always raise them. We are still here. Still breathing. Still believing that liberty should not be selective. Because if we are truly one nation then liberty is not a privilege. Justice is not conditional. Freedom is not paperwork. So, when I pledge allegiance, I pledge to the people all of them. Undocumented and documented. Descendants of settlers and descendants of slaves. Descendants of those who were here before any of it. Under one sky. On one contested, complicated, sacred land. With liberty and justice for all.

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Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 12:09 PM UTC

I pledge but to who ??

I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America but listen this pledge comes with questions. Because how do we say “Land of the free” without remembering whose land this was before thirteen colonies stitched themselves into history. How do we call human beings “illegal” on stolen land? We can’t be illegal on stolen land. I pledge allegiance to truth. To the first footsteps on this soil that were not European. To the bloodlines that existed before borders were inked like permanent scars across earth. And now we argue about U.S immigration and customs enforcement raids and roundups, about whom belongs and who doesn’t but excuse me are we not still under one nation? One nation. Indivisible. Or did we skip that line when the news got uncomfortable? They say protect the border. They say protect the jobs. They say protect the culture. But who protects the people whose only crime is hunger? is hope? is crossing a line drawn by men who never asked the earth what it wanted? And as for leadership A leader unites. A leader listens. A leader does not build his name higher than the people he’s sworn to serve. Donald trump. may hold a title, but a title is not the same as trust. A microphone is not the same as moral compass. Because we all bleed the same color. Red. Not Republican red. Not Democrat blue. Just human red. So why should immigrants be treated different? Why should people of color be treated different? When our veins do not segregate blood? I pledge allegiance to the idea that justice should not check passports before it checks humanity. I pledge allegiance to classrooms filled with accents, to neighborhoods that smell like ten different kitchens at once, to children who speak two languages and call this place home. This country is strongest when it remembers it is built by many hands. Black hands. Brown hands. White hands. Hands that picked cotton. Hands that built railroads. Hands that coded software. Hands that raised flags even when the flag did not always raise them. We are still here. Still breathing. Still believing that liberty should not be selective. Because if we are truly one nation then liberty is not a privilege. Justice is not conditional. Freedom is not paperwork. So, when I pledge allegiance, I pledge to the people all of them. Undocumented and documented. Descendants of settlers and descendants of slaves. Descendants of those who were here before any of it. Under one sky. On one contested, complicated, sacred land. With liberty and justice for all.

101

I wake up every morning with a smile stitched tight to my face, like it belongs there like it isn’t just a mask I learned to wear just to survive the day. Nobody ever notices how heavy it sits on my cheeks, how it cracks at the edges when silence gets loud and my thoughts start to speak. They say, “talk it out, let it go, you’ll heal, but who do I call at 2 am when the pain doesn’t feel real when my chest caves in and I can’t even kneel? Sleepless nights turn into battles I fight alone, staring at ceilings that feel like stone, praying for peace but hearing no tone just echoes reminding me I’m on my own. And yeah… I’ve had those thoughts I don’t say out loud, the kind that creeps in when life feels too proud whispers telling me “Just give up now,” but somehow, I’m still here, still standing somehow. Cause in my bloodline, being weak isn’t allowed, you can cry but don’t cry too loud. Don’t cry too long, don’t let it show, cause weakness is where the devil will go. So, I cry in the dark where nobody sees me, fall to my knees and beg for some peace. Then morning comes in like it doesn’t know my pain, and I rise up again like I’m perfectly sane. But God… I gotta be honest, I’m angry with You, cause You keep taking the ones that I needed to get through. You tell me have faith, You say, “I got a plan,” but it’s hard to believe when I don’t understand. How much more loss am I meant to take? How many nights am I supposed to break? How do I trust You while my heart keeps ache while I’m barely holding every breath that I make. They say it gets better, just give it some time, but time feels cruel when grief is your mind. When every memory cuts like a knife, and healing feels like the longest fight of your life. Still… there’s a piece of me that refuses to fold, a flicker of faith I can’t seem to let go of. Even when I’m tired, even when I’m numb, something inside whispers, “you’re not done.” So, I stand not because I’m strong, but because giving up would prove them wrong. And maybe faith isn’t always bright… maybe it’s choosing to live through another night.

0

Apr 11

Apr 11, 2026 at 2:12 AM UTC

Faith when Im Tired

I wake up every morning with a smile stitched tight to my face, like it belongs there like it isn’t just a mask I learned to wear just to survive the day. Nobody ever notices how heavy it sits on my cheeks, how it cracks at the edges when silence gets loud and my thoughts start to speak. They say, “talk it out, let it go, you’ll heal, but who do I call at 2 am when the pain doesn’t feel real when my chest caves in and I can’t even kneel? Sleepless nights turn into battles I fight alone, staring at ceilings that feel like stone, praying for peace but hearing no tone just echoes reminding me I’m on my own. And yeah… I’ve had those thoughts I don’t say out loud, the kind that creeps in when life feels too proud whispers telling me “Just give up now,” but somehow, I’m still here, still standing somehow. Cause in my bloodline, being weak isn’t allowed, you can cry but don’t cry too loud. Don’t cry too long, don’t let it show, cause weakness is where the devil will go. So, I cry in the dark where nobody sees me, fall to my knees and beg for some peace. Then morning comes in like it doesn’t know my pain, and I rise up again like I’m perfectly sane. But God… I gotta be honest, I’m angry with You, cause You keep taking the ones that I needed to get through. You tell me have faith, You say, “I got a plan,” but it’s hard to believe when I don’t understand. How much more loss am I meant to take? How many nights am I supposed to break? How do I trust You while my heart keeps ache while I’m barely holding every breath that I make. They say it gets better, just give it some time, but time feels cruel when grief is your mind. When every memory cuts like a knife, and healing feels like the longest fight of your life. Still… there’s a piece of me that refuses to fold, a flicker of faith I can’t seem to let go of. Even when I’m tired, even when I’m numb, something inside whispers, “you’re not done.” So, I stand not because I’m strong, but because giving up would prove them wrong. And maybe faith isn’t always bright… maybe it’s choosing to live through another night.

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