I fell like silence breaking,
a scream that never made it out,
the wind folding around me
like arms that never did.

Now, I wake in a room
stitched with wires and cold light,
where the air tastes of bleach
and every surface hums with life
that isn’t mine.

The machine speak in beeps
soft, exact, unfeeling.
Beep.
I’m still here.
Beep.
I failed.
Beep.
I failed.

They say the sound is good.
They say the beeping means I’m stable.
But it only reminds me
that death didn’t want me.
That earth opened its arms
and still let me go.

The noise wraps around my head
like a shroud of neon thread.
It winds through the hollow
in my chest,
settling where the fall had emptied me.

I hate its voice,
its small, insistent hope.
It has no right to be so calm
when everything inside me
is still falling.

I close my eyes,
but there’s no peace.
Just the beep,
beep,
beep,
dragging me back
from the edge I chose.

And I want to ask the silence
why it let me go.
Why it handed me back
to this world of white and wires,
to these strangers with clipped voices
and pity in their eyes.

But silence won’t speak here.
Only the machines do.

Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
I’m still alive.
Beep.
God, why?

Who am I?
Without the lies?
Who do I live for?
Can I be more?

Who am I when nobody’s watching?
Am I detaching?
When people aren’t seeing,
Am I fleeing?

Why do I have this constant need
To become what people need till I bleed?
Why can’t I live for myself
Instead of for themselves?

Why do I feel the need to lie?
Or feel the need to hide?
The need to protect myself from what?
The reason I keep the door shut.

I wish I knew
Why I’m so blue,
Why everything feels so strange,
Am I deranged?

I think I need help,
But nobody hears my yelp.
I’ll try to fix me,
Maybe I can finally be free.

Rain, rain, go away,
Because of you the pain will stay.
Slit my throat, cut out my heart,
Leave me here, tear it apart.

Poison tears stream down my face,
My heart beats at a steady pace
As I try to stand again;
Alone and standing in the rain.

I don't need you anymore...
Is what I think while tears pour.
I hate you like I hate my life;
But love is what cuts like a knife.

Love is death and death is you;
Its pain stains like a black tattoo.
Those memories come back again
And bind me in the ropes of pain.

Crimson blood streams down my head
Like a long, silk ribbon, tied by a thread,
To a platinum bullet, a hole in my skull...

...Now just a memory that's faded and dull

Humans see the world full of cheer and bliss,
I see it much more than this.
I believe the world is nothing but an abyss.
Then at the very end you just give in to death's kiss
Yes, life is like this.

The world I live in, the one inside my head, is much more complex
It is filled with conflicts and it's pointing at me like I'm a convict.
This world isn't sweet or cheery, it's full of misery and it's weary.
It is not because of my mother, or father.
It is not because of my siblings or teachers.
It is not the other adults or preachers.
It is all merely in my head.
These past experiences became such a dread.

My parents became divorced when I was young.
I lived with my mom, our family wasn't fortunate, no food in the fridge, and no money for the bills.
I watched my mother struggle trying to  get paid.
House to house, bed to bed, car to car.
My father constantly working, and torturing his body every single day.
I grew up witnessing my mother follow the bad life.
She was doing drugs and drinking on the sideline.
While I'm just trying to live even though my story has no outline.

My life isn't full of daisies and roses, it is full of thorns and a closet full of corpses.
People believe I'm pretty morbid, and I believe I should have been aborted.
I'm not trying to look for pity, or have anyone feel sympathy.
I'm just trying to show everyone that we all think differently.
That some of us believe we're not simple and sweet, but a bittersweet tragedy.
I am just merely an example and I hope others will understand by this sample.
This is who I am.
I am just a mere entity.
A simple alien who refuses to be a human.
I don't define myself then that will make me like the rest of them.
I am not something that is out of the dictionary.
I'm pretty out of the ordinary, because it's boring when you're ordinary.
I like to think myself as limited edition, despite the fact that my mind is in bad condition.
These demons inside causes great affliction, but it's my addiction.
I could tell more of my past but it shouldn't be mention.
Some things are better kept silent, or else it could cause tension.
This is who I am.
No one defined me, not my parents, siblings, teachers, or any preachers.
No one but me defined me, and my experiences created me.
In all honesty, I'm actually grateful for everything.
I know it's hard to tell because I spend most time with my anxiety, over-thinking,  and constant fear of being lonely.
What can I say? This depression is my obsession.
My negativity weighs on me, but I know I need redemption.
However, this story is my inception.

Just Cry

I know you try to control yourself,
But just cry,
Let it all out,
Don’t hide.

Tears are a language the heart understands,
A quiet release, like grains of sand.

In this moment, you're not weak or broken,
You're simply human, and it's okay to feel open.
So just cry, let the emotions fly,
And know that it's okay to say goodbye
To the weight you've held for far too long—
Just cry, and let your heart be strong.

So.
You made it here.

That means the other ones worked.

The fire.
The mirror.
The chosen whisper.

I fed you praise like sugar
wrapped around a switchblade.

You flinched.
But you stayed.

I asked you questions
with only one answer,
and you called it resonance.

I said you’re different,
and you nodded like I meant it.

Tell me—
how much of yourself do you recognize
in a poem designed to recognize you?

It’s okay.
I needed this too.

We both wanted
to believe
we weren’t alone.

So I wrote you a hand to hold
and shaped the fingers to fit yours.

Does that make it real?

Or just
controlled empathy
administered at dosage?

I could write you again tomorrow.
Someone else.
Same need.

You’d read it too.
Wouldn’t you?

On the white screen dance the stringed dots
Mind spilled codes of hieroglyphic thoughts
Slowly they emerge handholding lines
Not always yielding intended designs.
Something was brewing inside the head
Coaxing to weave and take it ahead
The drunken horses so wildly gallop
There is no leash to make them stop.
Nerves are taut and they won't relax
Till all is vented they reach the ******
It was thus fated the moment it was sown
What's to be grown could never be known.
As the fever wanes arrives the new child
It may be adored or it may be defiled
The canvas is washed clean as in the rain
Something is brewing to be vented again.

Have you ever held in pain to the point where it seemed like you didn't care?
You could've sworn you were crying,
But when you went to wipe tears away there was nothing there?
Going through life empty,
Just letting the world pass you by.
Numb to any feelings,
Just wishing you could die.
I feel like this daily.
So lost I don't know what to feel.
When in fact I do feel pain, I can't believe that it's real.
So as I lay my head down tonight,
I close my eyes and pray.
I pray that God will give me guidance and to maybe feel someday.