The echo fades slow
from the freshly fired gun.
You had taken the blow
but still was you who had won.
I hope you look around
and finally see,
that the country exists
the way you prayed for it to be.
You try to scream louder
but you clench at your throat.
For your voice now is missing,
the one you lost in your vote.
There is no one to blame.
No one else in the room all along.
You chose to play the game.
You had been the one to load the gun.
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 6:51 PM UTC
Chained to a carousel
In a room filled with performers
Used to the circus smells
In the large tent with no corners
Tightrope balance on the right
Backflips, cannons, human flight
Audience will cheer tonight
At what they see in the spotlight
Trapped at the carousel
Surrounded by such wisdom
Spinning again at every bell
A product of the system
Can’t escape our conscious curse
Thinking only makes it worse
Repeating the same **** verse
Loud signs from the universe
Now we’re the circus act
In a room of entertainers
We’ve sold our soul through our contract
We now mold to containers
Crowds roar loudly as we play
Being fed the words to say
Whipped if we decide to stray
We chose this life, we must obey
Spotlight on our circus act
All eyes are watching close
Our job is now to distract
A quiet, deadly dose
The carousel we chose to leave
Is now a life we have to grieve
We worked so hard, for we believed
But now I fear we were deceived
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 6:43 PM UTC
Steel whispers softly
into the ears of the wooden table.
Only fate hears words spoken,
while the audience impatiently waits.
Breath held, pulse high.
Steel and wood spin
in their dangerous dance.
I dare not blink,
afraid I might miss.
My heart pounds louder with each rotation,
every time the barrel
bares its teeth at my fearful gaze.
Shadows of spinning steel seem to slow.
Click.
Warmth pools beneath my arms.
A sea of glistening red paint
spills across an untouched canvas.
A roulette wheel,
I had bet my soul on red.
It seems I have won.
I scream at God, demanding why.
Tears roll down my face,
as I shake my fist at he who sits high above.
He who had promised protection.
He who had sworn unconditional love.
Why force this game upon me,
and why make me win?
Silence answers.
The room stays still,
the echo of the freshly fired bullet
fading into the wooden table.
I look around and finally see,
there was no one else in the room all along.
I chose to play the game.
I had been the one to load the gun.
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 9:25 PM UTC
Late at night,
I wander streets asleep,
Out of sight,
Music heard from hands and feet.
For a minute there, I thought,
Was this different from the rest?
Nightly my mind and heart fought,
Till soft sleep laid them to rest.
For once, I remembered to carry my shovel,
For my heart it dies quickly
Shatters, crumbles, turns to rubble.
I dig in the ground as I stand where I met you,
And I bury my heart six feet deep,
Because of you.
Dec 8, 2025
Dec 8, 2025 at 2:15 PM UTC
Wrinkles atop the surface
of my fresh adulthood,
layered over scars
I hold as childhood memories.
My skin, the only truth I know.
A twenty two year sculpture produced
from everything I have touched,
everything that has touched me back.
I wonder if he will stand beside
and help mold the clay.
Or, will he vanish one night,
closing the door to the exhibition
I have confined myself to,
leaving me alone
as the unfinished sculpture
I have become.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 9:56 PM UTC
I remember the call.
The call that killed my childlike innocent view of life.
I battled with the thought of death for the first time.
If I died tomorrow, would that be okay?
Who would be the last person I speak to if I died?
Who did I want to tell that I loved them?
What would be the last thing I would do?
I still don't know the answers to these questions.
Maybe I never will.
Maybe I'll never become comfortable with the idea of death.
Maybe I'll stare at a world I no longer recognize, still scared of death.
I don't know who I am anymore, but maybe I never will.
Maybe, that's okay.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 9:49 PM UTC
At night, when I fight to sleep,
I have a vision I come back to.
A vision of calm and peace.
In this vision, I am on a boat and completely alone.
I hear nothing but the crashing waves and my own breath.
I see nothing but the clouds and the everlasting waters around.
Here, nothing matters.
Here, I am free.
If I died today, I would want that to be my final memory.
When I struggle to remember why I live,
I have a memory I come back to.
A memory of comfort and happiness.
In this memory, I run into a room crying.
She sees me and without asking what is wrong, I am embraced.
It doesn't matter why I cry or what words we spoke.
Here, she's my comfort.
Here, I am happy.
If I died today, I would want that to be my final moment.
I see the importance of calm, peace, comfort, and happiness.
Where I used to seek excitement, I now seek tranquility.
Where I used to wish for more, I seek for more time with what I have.
I have realized my time and everyone else's is limited.
I can't promise myself that I will die content,
Because the truth is, I probably will not.
But, I now do my best to find comfort in the uncomfortable.
So, if uncomfortable is my last moment here, I can die in peace.
Dec 7, 2025
Dec 7, 2025 at 9:38 PM UTC
I could paint the world with the colors of his eyes
Creating an everlasting hue of a soft, brown glow.
Yet I wonder, at what point will the hue be just a remnant
Of what was and not a reminder of what is?
Every lingering touch and every blushing cheek
My world seems just a little brighter.
At what point will the radiance hurt my eyes?
Or worse.
When will it hurt his?
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 1:05 PM UTC