TyFighter - Hello Poetry

I grew up in rooms that never felt safe, where the walls learned my silence before I found my place. Now it’s open. streets and lights spill wide, like something I was always meant to see, but never knew how to step inside. I’m learning it slowly... how to stand in crowds, without folding into myself, without shrinking down too loud. I’m saying yes more, letting moments begin, not always expecting the worst to step in. There are people in my life. just not how I planned, not empty, not full, just slipping through my hands. Some connections reach me, but don’t really stay. like they’re close for a moment, then drift away. Because this life is bigger than anything I was given, and I’m here in the middle still learning how to live in it.

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Apr 25

Apr 25, 2026 at 1:27 PM UTC

Reflections

I grew up in rooms that never felt safe, where the walls learned my silence before I found my place. Now it’s open. streets and lights spill wide, like something I was always meant to see, but never knew how to step inside. I’m learning it slowly... how to stand in crowds, without folding into myself, without shrinking down too loud. I’m saying yes more, letting moments begin, not always expecting the worst to step in. There are people in my life. just not how I planned, not empty, not full, just slipping through my hands. Some connections reach me, but don’t really stay. like they’re close for a moment, then drift away. Because this life is bigger than anything I was given, and I’m here in the middle still learning how to live in it.

14

It feels like every time I get close, something bends until it breaks. Like my hands aren’t made for holding, only for leaving marks I never meant to make. So I start thinking... maybe distance is kinder, maybe silence is safer, maybe I’m better kept small. Less feeling, less reaching, less whatever it is that turns things heavy. Because I don’t want to be the reason, someone pulls away again. I don’t want to watch another good thing, slowly come undone in my hands. So I tell myself... it’s easier this way, and leave it at that.

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Apr 25

Apr 25, 2026 at 1:27 PM UTC

Distance Is Kinder

It feels like every time I get close, something bends until it breaks. Like my hands aren’t made for holding, only for leaving marks I never meant to make. So I start thinking... maybe distance is kinder, maybe silence is safer, maybe I’m better kept small. Less feeling, less reaching, less whatever it is that turns things heavy. Because I don’t want to be the reason, someone pulls away again. I don’t want to watch another good thing, slowly come undone in my hands. So I tell myself... it’s easier this way, and leave it at that.

17

Epstien and Trump, together on a island Not much to say, for there hiding. The poor children, all alone and scared. While being eaten, ***** and "spared".. Is there no justice? Is there no Jury? There's kids crying, adults lying, and america is currently dying... The files were hidden, too long away. They redacted all the names, for the rich to get away...

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Feb 19

Feb 19, 2026 at 11:53 AM UTC

The Files

Epstien and Trump, together on a island Not much to say, for there hiding. The poor children, all alone and scared. While being eaten, ***** and "spared".. Is there no justice? Is there no Jury? There's kids crying, adults lying, and america is currently dying... The files were hidden, too long away. They redacted all the names, for the rich to get away...

9

I taste the rot before it spills, Jealousy sweet with bitter thrills. I check his page — each like, each friend, As if betrayal hides in them. I count the minutes when he's gone, Invent dark stories, play along. Is she with him? Is he okay? Why didn’t he text yesterday? I ask too much, I watch too close, I drown him just to stay afloat. “Who were you with?” I press, I pry— I see the flicker in his eye. It’s not control—I call it care, But love shouldn't need a snare. Still, I claw at truth, at skin, As if obsession means I win. I hate this ache, I hate this need. I hate the way I make him bleed. But when he's quiet, when he's far, I lose track of who I are. I don’t want power. I want calm. To hold his hand, not twist his arm. But I get scared, I overthink— And drown us both before I blink. I’m sorry. That’s the honest part. I never meant to break his heart. I just get lost inside my head, And love turns fever, sharp and red.

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Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 8:08 PM UTC

Rotten Flesh

I taste the rot before it spills, Jealousy sweet with bitter thrills. I check his page — each like, each friend, As if betrayal hides in them. I count the minutes when he's gone, Invent dark stories, play along. Is she with him? Is he okay? Why didn’t he text yesterday? I ask too much, I watch too close, I drown him just to stay afloat. “Who were you with?” I press, I pry— I see the flicker in his eye. It’s not control—I call it care, But love shouldn't need a snare. Still, I claw at truth, at skin, As if obsession means I win. I hate this ache, I hate this need. I hate the way I make him bleed. But when he's quiet, when he's far, I lose track of who I are. I don’t want power. I want calm. To hold his hand, not twist his arm. But I get scared, I overthink— And drown us both before I blink. I’m sorry. That’s the honest part. I never meant to break his heart. I just get lost inside my head, And love turns fever, sharp and red.

28

In shadows cast by friendship's light, Her heart beats softly in the night, For she has found a love profound, Yet in forbidden ground she's bound. A girl, with tender heart so true, In whispers, dreams of what she knew, A love that blossomed unannounced, But bound by vows, forever housed. Her best friend, a beacon bright, With laughter dancing in the light, Unaware of the depths within, The silent ache that burns within. Through days of laughter, tears unseen, She hides her love, a quiet sheen, Forbidden fruit, a bitter taste, In secret realms, her heart encased. She watches as the seasons turn, Her love for her, a fire that burns, But knowing it can never be, She keeps her heart, though silently. In moments stolen, fleeting glances, She holds her love in hidden trances, A portrait painted in her mind, Of love that's gentle, undefined. Yet in the garden of her soul, She tends to love, though not the goal, To cherish from a distance far, A silent wish on distant star. For love, unrequited, softly weeps, In hidden valleys, secrets keep, And she, the girl with love untold, In silent whispers, heart consoled

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Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:58 PM UTC

Unsaid Thoughts

In shadows cast by friendship's light, Her heart beats softly in the night, For she has found a love profound, Yet in forbidden ground she's bound. A girl, with tender heart so true, In whispers, dreams of what she knew, A love that blossomed unannounced, But bound by vows, forever housed. Her best friend, a beacon bright, With laughter dancing in the light, Unaware of the depths within, The silent ache that burns within. Through days of laughter, tears unseen, She hides her love, a quiet sheen, Forbidden fruit, a bitter taste, In secret realms, her heart encased. She watches as the seasons turn, Her love for her, a fire that burns, But knowing it can never be, She keeps her heart, though silently. In moments stolen, fleeting glances, She holds her love in hidden trances, A portrait painted in her mind, Of love that's gentle, undefined. Yet in the garden of her soul, She tends to love, though not the goal, To cherish from a distance far, A silent wish on distant star. For love, unrequited, softly weeps, In hidden valleys, secrets keep, And she, the girl with love untold, In silent whispers, heart consoled

32

Roses are red, Violets are dead, I took your **** Cry harder, go beg. Hey Bones, you’re spineless, Pathetic, a joke, A two-faced rat, Who chokes on their own smoke. Your Pop Vinyls? Look nice. Your speakers? They slap. Too bad for you— You ain’t getting them back.

0

Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:56 PM UTC

Haha Bones

Roses are red, Violets are dead, I took your **** Cry harder, go beg. Hey Bones, you’re spineless, Pathetic, a joke, A two-faced rat, Who chokes on their own smoke. Your Pop Vinyls? Look nice. Your speakers? They slap. Too bad for you— You ain’t getting them back.

12

I'm lost in shadows, hollow and torn, A ghost of the child who was never born. I can't find light—just endless night, Hope is a lie, and nothing feels right. I weep in silence, breath held tight, Staring through the void, craving the bite Of peace that only death can give— A final breath, a reason not to live. The past is poison, etched in skin— Bruised, used, and shattered within. No kin, no kinship, no one to trust, Just dust and bones and rotting rust. I’m screaming inside, but no one hears, Drowning alone in a sea of years. This isn’t living—this is decay, A body alive, but soul stripped away.

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Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:55 PM UTC

Echoes Of The Broken

I'm lost in shadows, hollow and torn, A ghost of the child who was never born. I can't find light—just endless night, Hope is a lie, and nothing feels right. I weep in silence, breath held tight, Staring through the void, craving the bite Of peace that only death can give— A final breath, a reason not to live. The past is poison, etched in skin— Bruised, used, and shattered within. No kin, no kinship, no one to trust, Just dust and bones and rotting rust. I’m screaming inside, but no one hears, Drowning alone in a sea of years. This isn’t living—this is decay, A body alive, but soul stripped away.

16

She says it’s love, but it feels like fear, A voice that asks if I’m still near. “Where are you now? Who’s that with you?” Even silence feels like something to prove. She checks my friends, my posts, my page, Like love is kept inside a cage. I see her hands, they shake with doubt— She lets me in, then shuts me out. I try to breathe, I try to stay, But every step feels watched, weighed, grey. I’m not a secret. I’m not a ghost. But still, she questions what I post. I know her hurt. I see her past— The way she clings, the way she asks. And when she cries, I understand— But I still miss my open hands. She says she's sorry every night, That she’s too sharp, she holds too tight. And I believe her. Every time. But love feels heavy, not like mine. Still, I don’t want to walk away. I just need space. I need to say— I love her more than all this pain, But something’s gotta change, or break again. So I’ll stay close, but not too near, And hope one day she loses fear. Not for me—but for her own peace, So love can breathe, and she can release.

0

Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:54 PM UTC

Glass Walls

She says it’s love, but it feels like fear, A voice that asks if I’m still near. “Where are you now? Who’s that with you?” Even silence feels like something to prove. She checks my friends, my posts, my page, Like love is kept inside a cage. I see her hands, they shake with doubt— She lets me in, then shuts me out. I try to breathe, I try to stay, But every step feels watched, weighed, grey. I’m not a secret. I’m not a ghost. But still, she questions what I post. I know her hurt. I see her past— The way she clings, the way she asks. And when she cries, I understand— But I still miss my open hands. She says she's sorry every night, That she’s too sharp, she holds too tight. And I believe her. Every time. But love feels heavy, not like mine. Still, I don’t want to walk away. I just need space. I need to say— I love her more than all this pain, But something’s gotta change, or break again. So I’ll stay close, but not too near, And hope one day she loses fear. Not for me—but for her own peace, So love can breathe, and she can release.

28

I still say goodnight, still say I love you, To someone who’s gone, though he once felt true. We won’t be again—I know that part, But he still sleeps somewhere in my heart. It’s not what I want, this tethered ache, But some old habits refuse to break. I’m stitched with ghosts, I won’t pretend, But I’m tired of loving a dead end. Then there’s you—quiet, steady, near, A warmth I didn’t know I’d fear. I’m not pure, not clean, not free, But if you’re willing… would you try with me?

0

Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:53 PM UTC

For Lillith

I still say goodnight, still say I love you, To someone who’s gone, though he once felt true. We won’t be again—I know that part, But he still sleeps somewhere in my heart. It’s not what I want, this tethered ache, But some old habits refuse to break. I’m stitched with ghosts, I won’t pretend, But I’m tired of loving a dead end. Then there’s you—quiet, steady, near, A warmth I didn’t know I’d fear. I’m not pure, not clean, not free, But if you’re willing… would you try with me?

12

The door isn’t a door, it’s a stage. Every step outside feels like I forgot my lines. I rehearse my face in reflections— is it normal enough, too much, wrong in a way I can’t translate? Eyes feel louder than traffic. Every laugh sounds aimed. I walk like I’m being graded on breathing, on standing, on existing in the wrong shape. Public bathrooms are traps of echo and footsteps and waiting. What if I take too long. What if I make noise. What if my body betrays me just for being a body. My hands flap in my pockets. My thoughts line up in rigid rows. I script every interaction and still get it wrong. Inside, I don’t have to perform. No watching, no guessing, no pretending. Fear stays, but at least it isn’t crowded. Some days I don’t fear the street— I fear being seen by it.

0

Feb 11

Feb 11, 2026 at 7:51 PM UTC

Agoraphobia

The door isn’t a door, it’s a stage. Every step outside feels like I forgot my lines. I rehearse my face in reflections— is it normal enough, too much, wrong in a way I can’t translate? Eyes feel louder than traffic. Every laugh sounds aimed. I walk like I’m being graded on breathing, on standing, on existing in the wrong shape. Public bathrooms are traps of echo and footsteps and waiting. What if I take too long. What if I make noise. What if my body betrays me just for being a body. My hands flap in my pockets. My thoughts line up in rigid rows. I script every interaction and still get it wrong. Inside, I don’t have to perform. No watching, no guessing, no pretending. Fear stays, but at least it isn’t crowded. Some days I don’t fear the street— I fear being seen by it.

30