sovereign-words - Hello Poetry

In a barren field, Seeds still yield. In soil long drained of nourishment, We bloom beneath discouragement. A world of silence and demand, Still — we learn to stand. Through hunger, through the heavy sky, We do not ask the reason why. Still we survive, Still we strive. Against the winds that howl and blow, We bend, we break — and still, we grow. Wild, untamed, But never maimed. No fence could hold this flame inside, No rule could shame what we won’t hide. Raised on grit, not guaranteed, Fed on cracks, not on the seed. And yet — we rise, Unruly, wise. Raised on resilience, A splash of brilliance.

0

Jul 7, 2025

Jul 7, 2025 at 7:31 AM UTC

sovereign-words

Wildflowers

In a barren field, Seeds still yield. In soil long drained of nourishment, We bloom beneath discouragement. A world of silence and demand, Still — we learn to stand. Through hunger, through the heavy sky, We do not ask the reason why. Still we survive, Still we strive. Against the winds that howl and blow, We bend, we break — and still, we grow. Wild, untamed, But never maimed. No fence could hold this flame inside, No rule could shame what we won’t hide. Raised on grit, not guaranteed, Fed on cracks, not on the seed. And yet — we rise, Unruly, wise. Raised on resilience, A splash of brilliance.

22

More than most, I live like a ghost. A silhouette they narrate, An image they curate. Perceived, And not received. I’m Just a fable, With no seat at the table, They script my role, And Forget my soul. I sit in silence, cloaked in shame, out of the frame As if my quiet isn’t ache. As if my presence is a mistake. They do not ask. They do not wait. They build my story second-rate. And still I walk through crowded halls, heard by none, contained by walls. A tethered breath, a haunted pace, living in light without a place. This world moves fast — too sharp, too loud. No space for ghosts within the crowd. I learn their language, speak it well, but live in rooms they cannot spell. I am not yours to silence or save. I am not the ghost — you are the cave.

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Jun 30, 2025

Jun 30, 2025 at 8:37 AM UTC

sovereign-words

Ghost

More than most, I live like a ghost. A silhouette they narrate, An image they curate. Perceived, And not received. I’m Just a fable, With no seat at the table, They script my role, And Forget my soul. I sit in silence, cloaked in shame, out of the frame As if my quiet isn’t ache. As if my presence is a mistake. They do not ask. They do not wait. They build my story second-rate. And still I walk through crowded halls, heard by none, contained by walls. A tethered breath, a haunted pace, living in light without a place. This world moves fast — too sharp, too loud. No space for ghosts within the crowd. I learn their language, speak it well, but live in rooms they cannot spell. I am not yours to silence or save. I am not the ghost — you are the cave.

41

I trace the contours of this alchemy, Charting hidden forces in the galaxy. Alive on a rock in a sky full of stars — Yet we forget the miracle this is, Trapped in a system that leaves us with scars, Driven by need, and devoured by hunger. Life itself — a quiet kind of magic — Which makes what follows all the more tragic. A fire rages, buried deep in me, Burning in places No one can see. For all my striving, for all my wisdom, I can’t find a way to exist in this system. I was not born to survive in a cage, To trade my light for minimum wage. They ask me to shrink, to silence the song, But the music inside me is centuries long. They fear what they can’t understand, So they hand me a leaflet And call it a plan. But I was made of questions, Of patterns and flame — Not for this circus That plays the same game. Spirit, body, and mind — I’ve fought to keep them aligned. Shaped myself like a lump of clay, Measured my life One percent a day. But I toiled under a false premise, That this world would reward the climb. And now I’m standing in the wreckage, Realizing — it never saw me, Not even one time. Where is there left for me to turn, But to step back, and watch it burn? To deny the world the worth it won’t see. Let the smoke rise where I once stood — A ghost made of fire, misunderstood.

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Jun 23, 2025

Jun 23, 2025 at 6:19 AM UTC

sovereign-words

A ghost made of fire

I trace the contours of this alchemy, Charting hidden forces in the galaxy. Alive on a rock in a sky full of stars — Yet we forget the miracle this is, Trapped in a system that leaves us with scars, Driven by need, and devoured by hunger. Life itself — a quiet kind of magic — Which makes what follows all the more tragic. A fire rages, buried deep in me, Burning in places No one can see. For all my striving, for all my wisdom, I can’t find a way to exist in this system. I was not born to survive in a cage, To trade my light for minimum wage. They ask me to shrink, to silence the song, But the music inside me is centuries long. They fear what they can’t understand, So they hand me a leaflet And call it a plan. But I was made of questions, Of patterns and flame — Not for this circus That plays the same game. Spirit, body, and mind — I’ve fought to keep them aligned. Shaped myself like a lump of clay, Measured my life One percent a day. But I toiled under a false premise, That this world would reward the climb. And now I’m standing in the wreckage, Realizing — it never saw me, Not even one time. Where is there left for me to turn, But to step back, and watch it burn? To deny the world the worth it won’t see. Let the smoke rise where I once stood — A ghost made of fire, misunderstood.

39

We scroll past hunger, Swipe through war, Stream genocide like a genre And call it being informed. “You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say, As if we even have a hand to play.

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Jun 19, 2025

Jun 19, 2025 at 4:20 AM UTC

sovereign-words

Complicit

We scroll past hunger, Swipe through war, Stream genocide like a genre And call it being informed. “You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say, As if we even have a hand to play.

6

They told us we are free, Capable of changing all we see, Masters of our fate, Sculptors of tomorrow, With tools made of choice And maps etched in will It’s never too late to find our voice. They handed us mirrors, Called them windows, Taught us to vote, A choice in the clownshow, A chorus of masks all painted for show, Just noise in a system too broken to grow. We scroll past hunger, Swipe through war, Stream genocide like a genre And call it being informed. “You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say, As if we even have a hand to play. But we are tethered To systems too vast, To machines too smooth, To powers too cloaked. Each of us a droplet, Told we are the sea. Told we are free. Meanwhile, the giants feed, Corporations gorge on grief, Turn crisis into content, They market empathy, Sell back our outrage, Anything to keep us engaged. Work, once sacred, Just motion now. We turn cogs that turn nothing And call it survival. There is too much, Too many truths, Too many hands reaching from fires We cannot put out. We are choked by abundance, Starving for sense. So let the bombs rain. Let the sky split open. If collapse is the only honesty left— Let it fall. Let it fall And save us from this pain.

0

Jun 19, 2025

Jun 19, 2025 at 4:19 AM UTC

sovereign-words

The lies of the architect

They told us we are free, Capable of changing all we see, Masters of our fate, Sculptors of tomorrow, With tools made of choice And maps etched in will It’s never too late to find our voice. They handed us mirrors, Called them windows, Taught us to vote, A choice in the clownshow, A chorus of masks all painted for show, Just noise in a system too broken to grow. We scroll past hunger, Swipe through war, Stream genocide like a genre And call it being informed. “You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say, As if we even have a hand to play. But we are tethered To systems too vast, To machines too smooth, To powers too cloaked. Each of us a droplet, Told we are the sea. Told we are free. Meanwhile, the giants feed, Corporations gorge on grief, Turn crisis into content, They market empathy, Sell back our outrage, Anything to keep us engaged. Work, once sacred, Just motion now. We turn cogs that turn nothing And call it survival. There is too much, Too many truths, Too many hands reaching from fires We cannot put out. We are choked by abundance, Starving for sense. So let the bombs rain. Let the sky split open. If collapse is the only honesty left— Let it fall. Let it fall And save us from this pain.

48

Let them follow lines well-laid, Their scripted paths in safe charade. But don’t hold me to your labels and limits, Drawn from shortcuts and fleeting minutes. Let me be, let me fly, To map my uncharted sky

0

Jun 14, 2025

Jun 14, 2025 at 8:31 AM UTC

sovereign-words

Free me

Let them follow lines well-laid, Their scripted paths in safe charade. But don’t hold me to your labels and limits, Drawn from shortcuts and fleeting minutes. Let me be, let me fly, To map my uncharted sky

6

I am flawed, lost in the depths, Since I heard the silence beneath their steps. Their map is lean—lines, signs and names, Not seeing beyond the truth they claim. Through their shortcuts, they place me in a cage, A simple outline, they miss the weight behind the stage- What’s soft, unseen, warped by age, With complexity they cannot engage. This map of mine holds space, nuance, weight, Unmarked roads and altered states, It charts the shifts of inner skies, The truths that flicker in disguised eyes. It honours detours, dwells in pause, And bends around unspoken laws. They see it, flawed, lost, estranged, Too raw, too complex, too unarranged. But their neat world cannot gauge the cost, Of all the knowing they’ve lost Let them follow lines well-laid, Their scripted paths in safe charade. But don’t hold me to your labels and limits, Drawn from shortcuts and fleeting minutes. Let me be, let me fly, To map my uncharted sky

0

Jun 14, 2025

Jun 14, 2025 at 8:29 AM UTC

sovereign-words

The map they’ll never read

I am flawed, lost in the depths, Since I heard the silence beneath their steps. Their map is lean—lines, signs and names, Not seeing beyond the truth they claim. Through their shortcuts, they place me in a cage, A simple outline, they miss the weight behind the stage- What’s soft, unseen, warped by age, With complexity they cannot engage. This map of mine holds space, nuance, weight, Unmarked roads and altered states, It charts the shifts of inner skies, The truths that flicker in disguised eyes. It honours detours, dwells in pause, And bends around unspoken laws. They see it, flawed, lost, estranged, Too raw, too complex, too unarranged. But their neat world cannot gauge the cost, Of all the knowing they’ve lost Let them follow lines well-laid, Their scripted paths in safe charade. But don’t hold me to your labels and limits, Drawn from shortcuts and fleeting minutes. Let me be, let me fly, To map my uncharted sky

24

Survival’s a game, Played without the rules, Adapting, changing, Yet seen as the fool. Labeled wrong, When I only tried to breathe, Met with resistance, What’s left to believe? So I began to slip, Let the fight drain from my grip. Each label stitched with quiet scorn, Made me smaller than I was born. I wore erasure like a second skin — To be forgettable was how I kept myself in.

0

May 7, 2025

May 7, 2025 at 3:48 PM UTC

sovereign-words

Fragmentation

Survival’s a game, Played without the rules, Adapting, changing, Yet seen as the fool. Labeled wrong, When I only tried to breathe, Met with resistance, What’s left to believe? So I began to slip, Let the fight drain from my grip. Each label stitched with quiet scorn, Made me smaller than I was born. I wore erasure like a second skin — To be forgettable was how I kept myself in.

14

Please, I beg: I’ll do anything not to be. And if that wish is too big, I’ll do anything to hide where you can’t see. I shrunk myself so small, Set myself up to fall. Climbed to heights, Cloaked in my hidden fights, The scheme was misbegotten, I forgotten.

0

May 7, 2025

May 7, 2025 at 10:05 AM UTC

sovereign-words

I, forgotten

Please, I beg: I’ll do anything not to be. And if that wish is too big, I’ll do anything to hide where you can’t see. I shrunk myself so small, Set myself up to fall. Climbed to heights, Cloaked in my hidden fights, The scheme was misbegotten, I forgotten.

10

To answer your question, An essay would be most apt, I’ll route through the archives, sift through dusty drawers, Plot the coordinates of where I have been and map out my thoughts. But first I must know: what do you know? Can you hold the depth, can you pause to reflect? And in the moment, you hold my gaze, The silence swelling,it’s weight thick, I am but a deer in the headlights, Startled, still and blank, So in answer to your question, I’m fine.

0

May 6, 2025

May 6, 2025 at 11:12 AM UTC

sovereign-words

To answer your question

To answer your question, An essay would be most apt, I’ll route through the archives, sift through dusty drawers, Plot the coordinates of where I have been and map out my thoughts. But first I must know: what do you know? Can you hold the depth, can you pause to reflect? And in the moment, you hold my gaze, The silence swelling,it’s weight thick, I am but a deer in the headlights, Startled, still and blank, So in answer to your question, I’m fine.

12