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They told us we are free,
Capable of changing all we see,
Masters of our fate,
Sculptors of tomorrow,
With tools made of choice
And maps etched in will
It’s never too late to find our voice.

They handed us mirrors,
Called them windows,
Taught us to vote,
A choice in the clownshow,
A chorus of masks all painted for show,
Just noise in a system too broken to grow.

We scroll past hunger,
Swipe through war,
Stream genocide like a genre
And call it being informed.
“You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say,
As if we even have a hand to play.

But we are tethered
To systems too vast,
To machines too smooth,
To powers too cloaked.
Each of us a droplet,
Told we are the sea.
Told we are free.

Meanwhile, the giants feed,
Corporations gorge on grief,
Turn crisis into content,
They market empathy,
Sell back our outrage,
Anything to keep us engaged.

Work, once sacred,
Just motion now.
We turn cogs that turn nothing
And call it survival.

There is too much,
Too many truths,
Too many hands reaching from fires
We cannot put out.
We are choked by abundance,
Starving for sense.

So let the bombs rain.
Let the sky split open.
If collapse is the only honesty left—
Let it fall.
Let it fall
And save us from this pain.
We scroll past hunger,
Swipe through war,
Stream genocide like a genre
And call it being informed.
“You saw. You know. You are responsible,” they say,
As if we even have a hand to play.
 Jun 19 Kalliope
Angel
Ticking.
Time is running out.
I am losing control.

The hands spin faster—
I scramble
to keep it together,
to silence the chaos.

But the ringing in my ears
drowns every thought.
That incessant,
unforgiving:

Tick
  Tick
    Tick

It drives me mad,
twists my mind into knots.
I can’t breathe.
I’m running
out of
time—

I...
 Jun 19 Kalliope
Stephanie
Hello,
My name is Steph
And I am a domestic violence survivor.

I remember telling a Social Worker
That I was just collecting evidence
For my own ****** trial.

There were too many days
Where I truly expected
To die.

Once upon a time,
Common things like white trucks
And orange safety gear
And every single noise
Sent a shiver of panic
Down my spine.

Now I think about it less,
More like when a student
Tells me about her situation
And that she feels trapped,
Just like I did.

I guess this is what we call
Healing.
 Jun 19 Kalliope
apricot
LHAS
 Jun 19 Kalliope
apricot
A bird in a cage
i thought you were made for me
live in black and white
a simple haiku
 Jun 19 Kalliope
lizie
there’s a difference
between loving someone
and being in love with them.

i know that now.
because i love you,
in the way that feels steady,
in the way i’d hold your hand through anything,
in the way you live in my days
without needing to try.

but i am also in love with you.
and that’s different.

that’s why i think of you
when my legs ache
and my chest burns
and i want to quit,
because once,
you said pain means progress.
and somehow, that stayed.

it’s why your laugh feels like sunlight.
why the shape of your name
sits softly in the back of my throat
when i’m too shy to say it.
why i memorize your voice
like it’s the only music
i’ll ever need to hear again.

being in love means
i don’t just want you near me,
i want to be seen by you.
known by you.
still wanted anyway.

and that’s what scares me.
not the loving,
but how deeply i feel it.
how much i want to deserve it.
how quiet the ache gets
when you say my name
like i’ve never been too much.

there’s a difference.
and i know it
because i love you,
and i am in love with you.

and that truth
doesn’t hurt
quite like it used to.
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