Who are we, when nobody is watching?
when there's nowhere else to fit in,
when our personalities start crashing and falling.
Without the standards of society,
will we eventually lose our identity?
or will we meet it?
meet our true selves.
Maybe then we'd be free,
free from having to pretend,
but if we were,
wouldn't being different have no end?
The unique would be considered ordinary,
because then,
we'd all be extraordinary.
What if there'd be no ordinary?
Is such a world only imaginary?
To lose all this unnecessary acting,
instead embrace our true selves.
Maybe the question was never who we are when nobody is watching,
but whether we are brave enough,
to be that person
when everyone is.
Mar 15
Mar 15, 2026 at 12:19 PM UTC
isolation,
the lone tree stands,
I am the tree,
I must be punished for being me.
It's leaves lose colour,
the beautiful green,
black,
brown,
I just want to be seen.
There's a fog,
green,
with flies,
so many flies.
I sit in my room,
looking for the skies.
Too foggy to see,
must I really be punished for being me?
The walls close in with every passing day,
if I could speak, I'd have so much to say.
My mouth is gone,
peeled off,
I hated it, my voice.
The walls are closing in,
I'll let the thoughts win.
They say, my existence is a sin.
Mirror,
Why do you cry with me?
Who are you to cry with me on the hardest night I've ever lived through?
Don't pretend to care,
I cry because you are unloving.
How dare you act like you feel my pain?
I bleed,
because you are undeserving.
The flies,
they are here because of you.
The fog,
it blocks the skies,
because you are undeserving of the light.
If I had the might,
I'd break you,
use your pieces to peel.
The flies,
they crawl under my skin.
I try to not let them win.
You're pathetic,
you're a walking insult,
even that's more that what you deserve.
To become anew,
like a snake shedding it's skin.
They were right,
my existence is a sin.
Everybody reeks a different smell,
woody or pleasant,
floral or foul,
weak or strong.
It's what we are.
They say I smell good,
so why do the flies roam?
Why do they block the sky?
You're undeserving.
If I spray perfume,
or hush them away.
They've found a place to stay,
under my skin,
they've crawled in,
They made it their home,
I peel and peel and peel,
yet the smell won't leave.
Ripping my skin off,
and hope the smell fades.
If I can make like a snake and shed,
I will become anew.
As I bleed and sink into my bed,
I continue to peel,
Peel everything off,
tear my insides out,
more and more until the stench fades,
until I become anew.
All that does is attract more flies.
Eternity,
so tell me,
what do you see?
I am perfect or impure?
A never ending cycle,
of pain so obscure.
Buried alive,
I've sunk into my sheets,
I think of the hourglass,
it holds the sand of time,
time that will soon pass.
Eternity,
an entity,
turn the glass upside down,
restart the cycle.
No more blood,
the scent is gone,
it's black now,
dark,
begone,
wretched flies,
before I leave,
At least now I can see the skies.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:39 AM UTC
confessions
To all the girls I ever loved,
the silence I couldn't overcome,
with all, not even some.
All the opportunities I missed,
the lives I watched pass by,
the cravings I had, just to be kissed.
To be held,
to connect,
to speak.
To share,
share what we think,
how we feel.
But I wonder,
is change required,
to require what is desired?
Maybe so,
but what more can I do,
other than wait,
wait till it's too late,
till the truth I avoid is all I see.
Then I'll be sorry,
to both you and me.
To all the girls I’ve ever loved,
I dreamed of being your beloved.
But courage failed me when it mattered most,
my feelings stayed a silent ghost.
I’m sorry,
I admit,
though I don’t know where the sorrow fits,
to you, who never truly knew,
or to the man I never grew into.
To everyone who spoke about me
while I stayed quiet.
To those who judged,
who thought they knew me,
but never asked.
To the mother
who couldn’t understand her son.
To the friends I loved
more than I ever said.
To how arrogant I seemed,
when really I was just tired of explaining.
My head was full,
my mouth stayed closed.
I had so much to say,
but no way to say it.
You think you know me.
But you only know
what I let you see.
I was never man enough
to let the words leave me.
Or maybe I was,
just afraid of what would happen
once they did.
And I still ask myself:
does fear make me less of a man,
or does silence only hide
what I already am?
Sorry I felt everything so deeply
but never gave it a voice.
When I'm 6 feet underground with the bugs eating my brain,
they will get visions of you,
how I felt,
what I thought,
your names,
eyes,
smells,
and as I decompose and they reach my mouth,
one by one, day by day,
they will eat every word I never had the courage to say.
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:33 AM UTC