They built with hands calloused by silence,
stacked bricks of duty, mortar of shame.
No blueprint but survival,
no scaffold but tradition’s name.

The walls rose crooked,
corners sharp with secrets,
windows too narrow for light
to pass through unfiltered.

They laid the hearth with borrowed stone,
a grief inherited,
a joy deferred,
a love that never learned to speak.

We live in rooms they shaped,
tiptoe over floorboards that groan
with every unspoken word,
every withheld embrace.

The roof leaks when we argue.
The beams tremble when we cry.
We patch with apologies,
plaster over pain with politeness.

But the foundation,
oh, the foundation,
was poured in haste,
on soil that shifts with memory.

And still we dwell here,
in this house of lineage,
learning to mend what was never level,
to love in spite of the fault lines.

Fore and aft
Been thinking about
What that portends
In the time I've got left
Being dramatic
Up my ****
Round the bend
Got no impediments
But still doing nowt
Except
Disintegrating
Into the upholstery
That
Does not
Have to be that.

Near the age
When questions start to appear
You're wondering how or why
Your road is not clear.

Pink is not my favorite color
Nither I wear my rainbow shoes
Hide and seek feels like the past.
Everything changed so fast.

My songs were about flowers
The sun, The moon and starts
And now, about stupid love,
that always leave scars

Little prince as my dearest book
Every night before bed
I read it loudly to myself
Funny, now it's not even on my shelf

My moms rules become a joke
Cues why should I care
Isn't the point to be cool
And not listen to any rule.

The things I said: I'll never do
Are mistakes I make every day
The words that sometimes hurt
Is everything I have to say

But the pain that I feel
I because today I am aware
Of the cruel world
that surround me
and people that don't care

Beneath my roof, no peace I find,
Their words like chains, their love unkind.
A shadow unseen in my own abode,
While others bask in love’s bestowed.

I walked away, seeking solace, far,
To the riverbank beneath a cold star.
The fog, thick and heavy, veiled my mind,
A cloak of doubt, my thoughts confined.

Thoughts of escape rose dark and clear,
To drown in the river, silence my fear.
But faith forbade that final choice,
A struggle within, without a voice.

At the river’s edge, the water ran dry,
A cruel twist of fate beneath the sky.
Is this my luck, or a fleeting chance?
What now to do, in this broken trance?

Yet the world outside held darker skies,
So I return, where my spirit cries.
In silence, I forge a stronger soul,
Rise in the storm; make struggle my goal.

Beneath my roof, no peace I find,
Their gaze like fire, their hearts unkind.
A shadow unseen in my own abode,
While others bask in love’s bestowed

let the lash of the eye fall back into the air,
let the body be weightless.
let the voices die down,
Let the grief be dense.
All the light that once shone,
let it be gone,
Let it all be gone.

Let the words go quiet,
Let the body crumple up.
Let the heart be silent,
Let the organs collapse
Let the mind give up.
Let the breath be soaked
in the weight

Hush, little bird, though your cries ring true,
The weight of what’s coming hangs over you.
You speak of a sky too heavy to hold,
Of a world too weary, of lives grown cold.

Yes, rivers fade and forests fall,
And humankind, blind, heeds no call.
Each thread they pull, each fire they light,
Tugs closer the end of their fleeting might.

But little bird, lift your weary eyes—
There’s beauty still where ruin lies.
The earth will heal when the noise is done,
When silence blooms under a gentler sun.

Fields will rise where the towers stood,
Roots will drink what was spilt as blood.
The seas will churn, the storms will sing,
And life will burst in the heart of spring.

Hush, little bird, there’s grace in the end,
A cycle no hand can break or bend.
For nature waits with patient might,
To cradle the dark and birth the light.

So let them falter, let them fall,
Their echoes faint, their shadows small.
A better world, post-human reign,
Awaits in the wake of their fleeting pain.

Sing not of doom, but what’s to be,
A quiet earth, reborn, set free.
Hush, little bird, your fears may rest—
The world will thrive, in time, refreshed.