It’s 1:53 AM, and the silence is cruel,
not the kind that soothes
but the kind that pulls.

The shadows are whispering under the door,
and the walls remember what I tried to ignore.

The clock ticks like footsteps I’m scared to trace,
echoes of ghosts I refused to face.
The bed feels colder than it did before,
like someone left, but I’m not sure who anymore.

The moon don’t visit my window tonight,
just smoke from a memory choking the light.
My heartbeat sounds like a warning bell,
like even my ribs know I’m living in hell.

There’s a scream in my throat I can’t let out,
a storm in my lungs that circles doubt.
And the floorboards creak like they’re mourning too,
for the version of me that never made it through.

It’s 1:53, and the night won’t end,
time’s drunk on pain it won’t let bend.
No prayers left

just questions and smoke,
and a heart that beats just enough not to choke.

I wanna scream,
shout 'til the sky forgets my name,
run so far that the wind can’t catch
the pieces of my shame.

I wanna disappear into nothing,
no titles, no weight on my crown,
just a girl with no past,
no pain to hold her down.

But then I breathe.
One deep inhale of truth.
This ache in my bones?
It’s proof I made it through.

See, I didn’t just survive
I carved a kingdom from my cries,
built pillars out of heartbreak,
and ceilings from my “why?”s.

I stitched my war wounds into banners,
hung them high so I don’t forget,
that every time I wanted to quit,
God whispered, “Not yet.”

I stood alone in rooms
where love should’ve stayed,
but I planted roots anyway
watered by tears I never let show,
and they bloomed into a throne
only I could know.

So when the storm comes
and I’m tempted to run,
I remember I am the thunder
not the one who runs from it,
but the one it runs from.

This rage?
This sorrow?
It fuels the fire under me.
And no matter how hard life claws,
I won't abandon my dynasty.

I am the architect of every stone
the queen of every scar I own
and even when my soul feels weak
my legacy still speaks.

So scream if you must
shout into the dark
run through the silence
just to feel your spark...

But don’t forget
even if your voice shakes
and your crown feels heavy
you didn’t come this far to break,
you came to be legendary.

You say it’s me,
but the silence says more.
When you disappear,
I’m not sure what I’m waiting for.
The phone don’t ring,
your name just fades to gray—
and I’m left wondering
who you’re loving when you stay away.

This month…
this month has torn me down.
I’ve lost more than I thought I could
without making a sound.
My daughters—gone,
because their father plays God in court.
And still, I sit here,
waiting for you like I’m your last resort.

I move with grace,
try not to fall apart.
But when I pour out my soul,
I’m left talking to the dark.
You don’t pick up the phone,
you don’t ask how I’m holding on—
and I’m starting to think
you were never fully gone…

Because maybe you’re still tied
to the past you left undone.
Maybe she still owns a piece
you never meant to run from.
And here I am, loving you
in the middle of my own hell,
while you're loving me
with walls I can’t compel.

I don’t want to be the second choice
to a family you still miss.
I don’t want to be a placeholder
for a love that don’t exist.
I’m breaking, but I’m quiet—
still soft when I could scream.
Still sitting in this story
like I belong inside your dream.

But dreams don’t call back,
and silence don’t explain.
So I keep collecting questions
that echo in my brain.
Why you never show up
when my world starts to cave?
Why I feel so alone
with the one I try to save?

I’m tired, baby.
Not mad—just worn.
I’ve been fighting battles
since the day I was born.
But love ain’t supposed
to feel like I’m begging just to stay.
It’s not me you’re losing—
it’s the chance you threw away.

There’s a monster living under my skin,
It hums lullabies in a voice like sin.
It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t roar.
It just waits... behind the door.

It’s soft-spoken, wears my smile,
Walks in my steps, stays awhile.
It knows the cracks behind my eyes,
Where all the dead dreams lie.

It isn’t sharp—it’s patient and slow,
It dances in places no one should go.
It sips on memories like bitter wine,
And chews on thoughts that once were mine.

It curls around my mother’s name,
And whispers that I’m just the same.
It counts the days I’ve held my breath,
Then offers comfort dressed like death.

People say, “You’re healing now,”
But they don’t see the sacred vow—
Me and it, we made a truce,
It feeds on pain—I stay the noose.

I try to scream, but it just grins,
Wearing my face like borrowed skin.
And every time I think I’m free,
It locks the door and swallows me.

You wouldn’t know it to look in my eyes—
But something in me never dies.
I laugh. I love. I play pretend...
But the monster’s always watching…
waiting…
for the end.

Pity the fool that fumbled me
thought love was free,
but nothing real comes without a fee.
Unconditional? Nah, I had conditions
like loyalty, truth,
and no double lives or hidden missions.

My heart ain’t healed,
just stitched up in silence,
still bleeds slow
from past love’s violence.
I gave it whole, I gave it loud
they left me hollow
but still I’m proud.

To the next soul who dares to stay,
I’ll hand you the ruins,
I won’t make you pay—
but know this truth before you fall:
you’re getting pieces,
not the all.

You’ll get my scars, my sacred mess,
my tired eyes that still confess
I want to love, I want it true,
but I no longer chase
what won’t choose me too.

So take what’s left, but tread it right,
I’m done with war disguised as light.
If you love me,
love the broken parts,
‘cause I’ve already died
a thousand starts.

The weight is heavy
not from the world,
but from the wreckage I carry
inside my own chest.
I built this burden brick by brick,
with every promise I broke
to myself.

I can’t breathe.
Not because there’s no air
but because I’ve learned to choke
on my own expectations,
on all the times I said
“I’ll do better tomorrow”
and didn’t.

I stare at the mirror,
but all I see is a ghost
of the girl I swore I’d become.
She looks back,
disappointed
not with the world,
but with me.

I let myself down, again.
And again.
And again.

How do you forgive
the one person who
never seems to change?
Who keeps repeating the same fall
with hope in her pocket
and shame on her face?

I’m tired of pretending
this is healing.
I’m tired of calling this
a lesson.
What if I’m just broken?
What if the climb
was never mine to make?

But even here,
gasping beneath the weight,
there’s a whisper
maybe not today,
but someday,
I’ll stand
and she’ll be proud
to be me.

They say I’m strong,
but they don’t see the water rising,
don’t feel the weight in my lungs
every time I smile and lie,
“I’m fine.”

I wake up sinking
not in oceans, but in silence,
in memories I can’t bleach clean,
in screams I swallowed so long
they echo in my bloodstream.

Tried to build lifeboats
from people who only ever drilled holes.
Tried to love loud enough
to be heard above the storm,
but the waves always win
when you fight 'em alone.

My past pulls like undertow
grief, guilt, betrayal tied to my ankles.
And hope?
Hope’s a flicker in the fog,
a lighthouse I keep swimming toward
but never reach.

Some nights I just float,
arms wide, numb to the cold,
wondering if the sky will cry me dry
or if this is just how drowning feels
when nobody notices you're underwater.

But still
I breathe.
Even when it hurts.
Even when it’d be easier not to.

Because there’s something holy
about surviving tides
that were meant to take you.