I orbit the day
like a dead star,
lightless,
remembering fire.

Grief is a slow eclipse
vanishing
by degrees.

Still, drifting forward,
trailing the dust
of what is lost.

The cosmos turns away
and the silence grieves alone.

I started wearing a rubber band
Around my wrist
So I can send slicing pain
Through my arm when I didn’t feel okay
My wrist is swollen
White welts
But they won’t scar
That makes it okay

Whether from arrogance or negligence, I yawn at their stance
Not a chance I’ll advance.

Science tends to disagree - research believes in therapy
As far as claiming it'd make me happy.

        'Have a 30-minute walk each day',  
She dares to say as I continue to pay.
        'You carry trauma from your childhood'
        'Navigate your thoughts and it’ll affect your mood'.

Sorry doctor, I’m lacking modesty -
I seem unable to take you seriously and seeing you hurts violently.
I could easily earn your degree.

Undoubtedly, people will say:
        'How can she expect to be okay?'
        'She's abusing of her sick leave pay'
        'In no way committed to her healing journey'.

To which I’ll roll my eyes at any day.

"What would people think?"
"Nothing."
"Do you care or even think about them?
Do you have anything to blame?"
"They have their own jobs to do,
Just like you."

"Judging you from different frames,
'They' is just part of your brain."

Not a dystopian world we are living in.
That's just our imagination and way of thinking.
If the world were dystopian,
We would have been dreaming of utopia to live in.

I try my hand at fitting in
But miss most of the time
It could be worse but here's the dirt
I've been a misfit all my life

When you try and take a square peg
In a world that's spinning round
You'll soon find it doesn't fit
If there ever was a doubt

Like a fish out of the water
This pig that has no wings
My life is one big falter
If I'm at fault of anything

If it's even the slightest bit odd
That is where you will find me
Being where I ought not
When you pull back the curtain of reality

I find there really is no choice
Or to what degree
As I raise both hand and voice
A misfit it will be

If love is a game to you,

I choose not to play.

no revenge,
because how could i put you through anything,
when you were once everything?

i want to peel your skin back
and reveal your deepest sweetness.
to look at your veins
and memorize their paths.
maybe then i’d understand
why you are so rough on the outside.
it takes a lot of work,
digging your fingernails into the flesh,
pulling and pulling until you are bare.
but it is all worth it;
to visit your center,
to break past what conceals you,
and take you apart
slice by slice.

You don’t have to rise like the sun each day—
some mornings, it's enough just to open your eyes,
to sit with the silence,
to feel your heartbeat and whisper, “I’m still here.”

You are not the storm that passed,
nor the ruins it left behind.
You are the seed under the soil,
waiting for the right rain,
the quiet miracle of a soul not giving up.

Let no one shame the pace of your healing.
Let no voice drown out the hush of your trying.
Because surviving is not small.
And breathing, on hard days,
is a kind of bravery the world forgets to praise.

So rest, dreamer.
You don’t need to shine tonight.
You just need to stay—
soft, alive,
and wildly worthy of tomorrow.