No thunder breaks, no lightning flares,
just quiet storms that no one shares.
The sky is grey, but so am I,
and no one asks the reasons why.

I walk through crowds with hollow grace,
a borrowed smile upon my face.
Inside, the walls begin to cave,
each breath a battle I had to brave.

The world keeps turning, loud and bright,
but in my soul, there is no light.
Midnight in a midday hour,
my joy a wilted, ghostly flower.

I’ve cried beneath a clouded sky,
let raindrops mask the reason why.
Each teardrop blends and hides its name,
a perfect cloak for quiet shame.

They see the rain but not the ache,
the fractured heart that doesn’t break.
My pain is still, without a sound,
like roots that rot beneath the ground.

But sometimes, when the downpour clears,
a glimmer shines between the tears.
A softness in the afterglow,
a voice inside that starts to grow.

It says you’re here, and that is brave.
You’re not the flood you couldn’t stave.
You’re not the weight, the wound, the stain.
You are the one who walked through rain.

''I'm sitting here, waiting,
For answers to fill this paper with...
Answers that  are still a void in my head.

Did that ever happen to you?
I mean, who am I asking?
A stranger who just passed through?
A stranger who can't stay with you?
A stranger who is you.

Your thoughts are not your own anymore.
Endless questions haunt you like a shadow, and I don't want more.
More heartbreak,
More nightmares,
And questions I shall never know the answers to.

Am I good? Am I bad?
Am I happy? Am I sad?

I'm sitting here, wondering
About all the questions I could've lost my mind over.
All that...
All that because of the stranger who doesn't feel like home anymore.''

The healing process starts with the wound,
A broken bone,
A fractured piece of scaffolding.
There might be something in the way,
Distracting from the injury.
If you fall backwards,
Hit your head and land on your wrist,
The pain of your head is most prevalent.
So it gets iced,
Immediately it feels better.
But after icing it too many times,
It stops hurting the way it did,
You start to notice the pain in your wrist.
That doesn’t go away when you ice it,
Even if you try to ignore it, it’s in-ignorable.
Now that the smaller pain of your head is gone,
You start to notice why something still aches,
The real wound is a broken wrist.
So you get a brace,
You tell a doctor what’s wrong,
They give you something to make getting rid of the pain,
A little easier.
You wear the brace for a while,
Until you get used to hurting with the brace,
But you still don’t like it.
So instead of letting it happen,
You adjust the Velcro,
Making the brace tighter to help you better.
Until the doctor decides you don’t need it anymore,
You’ve healed.
But you’re still sore,
It’s going to ache at first.
When what you’ve missed because of it sinks in,
But people point out how you’re happier.
Then you realize,
It got better,
By taking away the injury,
You healed.

There is some in-between
Which I do not post 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

But I digress.

You all who are mortal,
You who reincarnate.

You have had your eclipses;
You, the reincarnations.
Wandering the dunes of Time;
Life, as new desert(s) valleys,
Which forgets (,) before itself.

This is bad health,
Good is remembrance.

Erase not the hills before you
If you seek the freedom & liberation
That awaits you on the Mountain.

Will you welcome & accept new Sun?

Do you need a sunset?
You who cry & ache to go on,
But refuse compassion & patience.
I who can zap & short-circuit,
I who can bring forth the meteors & comets,
I who can churn the molten oceans of Electric.

Who can call upon the Ripples, the Radiations, the Crystallizations.

I who have kept you at start; now,
At is.

Sun's out, the water gleams,
A vibrant lure of summer dreams.
But in the closet, hangs a dread,
A whisper from inside your head.
The bathing suit, a tiny span,
A mirror reflecting a flawed plan.
Each stretch mark, every curve and line,
Becomes a subject, far from divine.
The whispers grow, a judging choir.
Unable to do what my heart desires.

Distractions
They turn a man into a lazy soul,
a responsible citizen into a careless one,
a meritorious student into the disobedient,
and a kind heart into something selfish.
They **** righteousness,
while building a false sense of self-esteem.
They drown us in the unnecessary—
a flood of moments we never asked for.
Distractions feel comforting when we’re caught in them,
but they leave us with regret the moment we step away.
Keeping them at a distance
is the first step toward change—
toward becoming who we were always meant to be.

"Good never lasts forever —
not even the people with the kindest hearts. "