There are stories in my chest
no one has read—
pages inked with tears,
and words pressed down so hard
the paper almost tore.
I’ve smiled in rooms
where my soul was breaking,
nodded to questions
while my heart screamed answers
no one would understand.
Yet here I am—
not because the road was kind,
but because I kept walking
even when my steps
felt heavier than the sky.

Some days,
my strength is just breathing.
Other days,
it’s daring to dream again.

And through it all,
my heart still beats—
a quiet rebellion
against everything
that tried to silence it. 🫀

Some victories are so quiet,
the world never hears them—
yet they echo forever in the soul.

No one saw
the nights you whispered,
“Just one more day.”
No one felt
how your chest ached
from holding in storms,
or how your hands trembled
as you tried to stitch
your own broken edges.
Yet you kept walking—
through the ache,
through the silence,
through days that felt
they would never end.
And maybe no one will ever know
the wars you fought alone,
but here’s the truth:
You survived them.
And survival—
is everything.

I want to be the kind of love
that doesn't knock—
but walks in when life falls apart.
The kind that doesn’t flinch
at your mess—
but pulls up a chair
and says,
“Tell me where it hurts.”
Not the firework kind—
quick and loud.
But the candle kind—
quiet,
steady,
still burning
after the room is dark.
The kind that remembers
your favorite song
even when the world forgets your name.
That holds your hand
even when you’re hard to hold.
If no one’s ever loved you like that—
then let this poem
be the first time
you feel it.

There will be days when strength feels out of reach—
but remember, you’ve made it through everything so far.
You were built to rise,
even when life tries to hold you down.
Growth isn’t always loud.
Sometimes it’s just showing up.
One breath, one choice, one step at a time.
You’ve got this.
The fight in you is real

They didn’t see the nights
I held my breath through the silence—
when the world slept,
but my fears didn’t.
They didn’t feel
the weight I carried
just to smile in the morning,
or the wars I fought inside
just to show up.
But I’m still here.
And that means something.
Not because I had it easy—
but because I chose to rise
when falling felt familiar.
Because I kept loving,
kept hoping,
kept burning
when I had every excuse to go cold.
This strength isn’t loud.
It’s quiet,
earned,
and scarred.
I am my own reason to believe.
And even if no one claps,
I’ll still climb.
Because this fire in me
was never meant to die.

Joy isn’t loud.
It doesn’t crash in like thunder.
It hums—
beneath the clatter of chores,
in the curl of morning bread,
in the wink of a child’s crooked tooth.
It’s the joke you tell yourself
when no one’s looking.
The dance your shadow does
when music forgets to play.

Joy isn’t planned.
It spills.
It grows through concrete.
It’s a rebellion in softness—
a riot of warmth
in a world too cold.
You don’t need to earn it.
You just need to notice—
Joy has no edges.
So let it reach you.

A road paved with memories of pain,
Thoughts that won’t let go,
Trapped in the vault of my mind.
I search for what's wrong—
But pain speaks in silence.

It either builds or breaks.
It becomes a weapon,
Where emotions stay locked.
I try to return
To a path long forgotten.
They say there’s light
At the tunnel’s end...
But what if there isn’t?

So I searched within—
To carve hope
From my own emptiness.
The pain was real,
But the scars were illusions
Time refused to heal.

When I almost gave up,
A voice found me.
A whisper turned into light—
A flicker I never saw before.

My illusions faded.
Strength rose.
Not because I was healed—
But because I chose to rise.

The tunnel wasn’t endless.
Just darker
Than I was ready for.

You’ve spent years being the ground—
holding everyone’s weight,
catching their falls
while no one noticed
you were crumbling too.
You smile like it's stitched in,
even when your soul
wants to unthread.
You carry laughter
in pockets full of old sadness,
and somehow still give
more than you’ve ever received.
But hear this, quietly—
like a secret you forgot was yours:
You deserve to be the sky.
Not just the roof over others,
but the space to breathe,
to be light,
to thunder if you must,
to stretch without apology.
You are not a background.
You are the whole **** sunrise
someone's waiting to wake up to.

This is for the ones who wake up tired,
but rise anyway.
For the quiet fighters—
the ones who dream in silence,
who carry storms in their chest
but still offer calm to the world.
For the hearts that have been broken,
but still dare to hope.
For the souls who have failed,
been laughed at, overlooked, underestimated—
but show up, again and again.
You are not behind.
You are not too late.
You are exactly where your strength is built—
in the struggle,
in the doubt,
in the ache of becoming more than anyone expected.
One day, the cracks will glow,
the scars will shine,
and the world will ask,
“How did you do it?”
And you will answer,
“I kept going… when no one was watching.”

Memories linger, vivid as yesterday,
Yet slip through my fingers, like sand swept away.
Oh, to turn back the clock, to cradle the past,
To savor each moment, make every heartbeat last.
The world weighs heavy, a quiet disconnection,
Smiles wear thin, shadows breed introspection.
But in nature’s embrace, I find quiet release,
Where sea breezes murmur and forest songs bring peace.
In meadows of emerald, I rest with the bees,
Their soft hum a balm, their rhythm a breeze.
Through life’s restless chaos, I’ll carve out my way,
Guided by starlight on clear midnight’s stay.
And with every sunset, I’ll dance wild and free,
A quiet joy blooming, fierce inside me.

Sparrow are singing,
My heart is in two pieces.
Roses are dead, violets are dying,
Outside am smiling , inside am crying.
You don't know who is hurt,
You just don't know how it feels Every, memory is not a battle.
He would hide the pain,
behind a broken smile.
My poems are my feelings,
my head is my land.
Don't know what to do,
With this unmanageable hand,
Filled with magical gifts of emotions.

My world feels hollow, lost in gray,
Where light has long since slipped away.
No sun to warm, no hope in sight—
Just endless rain that dims the night.

I’m drowning in my silent cries,
Each heartbeat echoing my lies.
No one sees the pain I hide—
They miss the part of me that’s died.

Do we cry to heal the soul,
Or just to fill an empty role?
Is it grief we can’t explain,
Or missing one we loved in vain?

Laughter came, but couldn’t stay.
Hugs wiped a tear, then turned away.
This ache won’t leave—I don’t know why.
I beg it just to say goodbye.

In her gaze, I see myself anew—
A flicker of love, eternal and true.
No words are spoken, yet hearts align,
In the silent spark where our souls entwine.

Emerald pools, so deep, so wide,
Hold the echoes of the tears she’s cried.
Joy and sorrow, loss and grace,
All dance together in that sacred place.

With just one look, the world stands still,
Time surrenders to her quiet will.
Her eyes—like lanterns in the night,
Draw me gently toward their light.

A thousand colors, yet none the same,
Each glance a story, each blink a flame.
They speak of dreams both near and far,
Of who we are, and who we were.

They hold the pain she tries to hide,
But also hope she wears with pride.
A mirror clear, where truth is known,
In her gaze, I am not alone.

Not just beauty, but something more—
A doorway to her very core.
A gentle strength, a love unspoken,
In every glance, a promise unbroken.

They say the stars hold endless light, but I have seen something brighter: your eyes, where constellations dance, and my heart becomes a fighter.

I’ve stumbled countless times before, but never quite like this— not on pavement, not on stone, but into something bliss.

Not just in passing glances, or the hush of stolen sighs, but in the way my pulse ignites each time you wander by.

I never thought that someone like me could ever be truly seen— yet here you stand, my fragile heart held softly in between.

If I could cradle time itself, I’d keep the way you smile— how your lips curl at the edges, and your laughter stays a while.

You're the breath that fills my silence, the hush between each sigh. You're the echo in my laughter, the shimmer in my eye.

Your name is written in the dawn where golden light begins— it lingers in the twilight sky,

Shadows of memories drift softly,
Each step holds a silent cry.
The past murmurs in every corner—
Deep inside, scars whisper.

Invisible wounds carved by time,
A hidden ache that speaks in silence.
Every tick of the silent clock
Echoes the loss of tender moments,
Time stealing pieces of my heart.

Every beat echoes a memory,
A soft reminder of love unreturned—
A rhythm of tears and unspoken words.
In the dark, my soul cries out,
Desperate whispers fill the void,
A plea for comfort in endless night.

My eyes become a mirror of loss,
Reflecting a world of muted sorrow,
Where every tear speaks of broken dreams.
I wander through darkened streets,
Carrying a heart heavy with grief,
Searching for solace in the quiet gloom.

Every laugh is now a memory,
A ghost of joy that slipped away,
Leaving behind a quiet melancholy

Life doesn't come with a map.
It throws curveballs, storms, and silence.
You take the hits. You get back up.
You wear the scars like armor—not shame.

Not everyone's going to clap when you rise—
Good. You're not here for their applause.
You're here to own your story,
Not beg for a role in someone else's.

The world will try to crush you.
Lie to you.
Tell you you're too much, or not enough.
Laugh when you fall.
Doubt when you speak.
But guess what?

They don’t get to define you.
You are forged, not broken.
Bent, not beaten.
Every bruise is a blueprint.
Every fall, fuel.

So break the rules they wrote for you.
Set fire to the limits.
And walk—no, run—into the life
you were told you couldn't have.