Country Roads, Dusty Towns

I.
Shifting skies paint my journey,
as I carry the me I’ve become.
Budapest, oh refuge of light,
tattoos your lessons into my skin—
wisdom etched deep, surrender tendered,
a new self rising, full of life.

But the roads turn dusty,
and the smoky windows of home
consume the tissue of my being.
The me I thought I’d carry back
is buried beneath the sorrowful weight,
dust smothering, airless.
Inside me, I am buried again.

II.
Sweet home, bitter walls,
where every stone has found me,
every wound still heals, still weeps.
A mother who never chose me.
A sister, favorite in her shadow.
A brother, his cries laced in poison.
No corner spared—
each breath a test of endurance.

Yet I learn again to survive,
for living belongs to Budapest.
Here, in all-year-winter-town,
I crawl to the surface,
stitch myself together with hope.
Goodbye to the me who couldn't stay whole.

III.
Budapest—Kay’s arms,
a borrowed peace,
his better house in town.
Yet cracks of betrayal whisper louder now.
Five years marked in shadows,
love fractured but familiar.
I switch my code, detach my soul,
find my peace in the spaces between.

Even as I know:
these roads will lead me back,
the cycle will return,
dust will cling to me again.

IV.
But this time,
hope is louder.
This time, I carry the dream:
a house that is mine,
walls free from echoes of hurt,
a life where survival steps aside
to let living take the stage.

Country roads, you know what to do—
take me back, for now.
But one day,
lead me to where
I’ll never have to return.

Dust and Tattoos

I.
I thought I’d carry myself whole,
from Budapest’s bright embrace
to the dusty arms of home—
lessons etched as tattoos,
whippings turned wisdom,
the shine of surrender
making me anew.

But dusty roads have a way
of stealing your breath,
of burying who you were becoming.
Smoky windows blur the light inside,
and the life I learned to live
is suffocated beneath the weight.
Dust settles in my lungs,
on my skin,
and I am buried within myself.

II.
Oh sweet home, oh sorrowful walls,
your cracks hold my history,
your air is thick with stone-throwers.
A mother who never looks my way,
a sister carved from favoritism’s stone,
a brother who screams his poison,
a family that taught me how to ache.
No corner safe. No love unbarbed.
Each breath is a wound
and every wound is a lesson in survival.

I survive.
Not live.
Survive.

III.
Then, there is Kay.
Kay, with his better house in town,
Kay, with his borrowed peace.
Five years marked in love and betrayal,
a love that wears masks,
a peace that feels fragile,
a solace that cracks
when I’m not near his arms.

I detach to protect myself.
Switch my soul off.
Learn to find my peace in distance.
Even with him, I know:
the dusty town still calls me back,
its fingers curling at my ankles.
The cycle repeats.

IV.
But this time, there is hope.
This time, I whisper to myself:
maybe one day, the cycle will break.
Maybe one day, I’ll stand in a house
where no one has thrown stones,
where the walls hold only my voice,
where survival isn’t the rhythm of my days.

One day,
I’ll rise brighter than before,
tattooed lessons shining on healed skin.
One day, I’ll step off these roads
and never look back.

V.
But for now,
the roads are dusty.
For now,
I go where the dust consumes.
For now,
I survive.

Country roads, you know what to do.
Lead me home—
but one day,
lead me away.

Where We Heal

In the silence of loss, where our hearts have bled,  
We gather the pieces of what once was said.  
Though shattered and worn, we still seek the light,  
In the darkness of sorrow, we’ll learn how to fight.  

With each fragile breath, we begin to reclaim,  
The strength to rebuild from the ashes of pain.

Where Do We Go?

In the aftermath of love, where shadows linger,  
We sift through the ruins, touch memories with fingers.  
Draped in the fabric of dreams that once soared,  
We chant to the silence, our voices ignored.  

Where do we go when loyalty’s torn?  
When trust lies shattered, and hope feels forlorn?  
Do we dance in the ashes of what we once knew,  
Or build walls around hearts, shielding from view?  

Broken and bruised, our spirits can fracture,  
Yet within every wound, there's a flicker of rapture.  
What happens now when the world turns to gray?  
How do we rise when we’ve lost our way?  

Can we stitch together the pieces of pain,  
Or forge new beginnings from all we’ve disdained?  
Do we seek revenge for the hurt that we bear,  
Or let go of the anger and learn how to care?  

In the depths of our sorrow, we’ll find a new voice,  
A whisper of strength in the silence, a choice.  
For even in darkness, a spark can ignite,  
And from ashes of heartache, we’ll learn to take flight.  

So here in the chaos, we’ll gather our hearts,  
With each fragile beat, we reclaim every part.  
Though battered and weary, we rise from the fall,  
In the journey of healing, we can conquer it all.

In the quiet of night, I wrestle with fate,  
The heart’s heavy burden, the crushing weight.  
Does love wear a price tag, a gilded façade,  
Or linger in shadows, where truth is defraud?  

I see him, the one who stirs not my soul,  
Yet offers a life where ambition takes toll.  
Could I turn my back on the warmth that I crave,  
And barter my heart for the riches he gave?  

What if all men wear masks, their hearts locked away?  
What if true love is just a game they all play?  
Why should I cling to a hope that might shatter,  
When gold glints so brightly, and love seems a scatter?  

Am I less if I choose, a puppet of gold?  
A villainous figure, a story retold?  
Yet in whispers of night, when I’m lost in my dreams,  
What if peace lies in silence, in the still of my screams?  

Can a woman be free, can she rise and defy?  
Can she shatter the chains, spread her wings, and learn to fly?  
To seek not just comfort but solace within,  
To love fiercely, wildly, and still learn to sin.  

I long for a choice that ignites the deep fire,  
Not just a cold bargain, a life to conspire.  
In the dance of the heart, let the echoes be heard,  
For a woman can choose, can love without words.  

So let them all label, let the world play its part,  
For I’ll walk my own path, with a fierce, unbound heart.  
I’ll weave through the pain, let my passions ignite,  
For in darkness, I’ll shine, a relentless, brave light.  

In the depths of desire, I’ll carve out my throne,  
Not just for the riches, but the strength I’ve outgrown.  
I’ll gather my fragments, each piece tells my story,  
A mosaic of scars, of struggle, of glory.  

For life is a canvas, and I’m the bold brush,  
I’ll paint my own destiny in a vibrant rush.  
No longer a pawn in a game meant to bind,  
I’ll chase what fulfills me, leave the empty behind.  

So watch me rise higher as I follow my heart,  
Embracing the journey, each moment a start.  
For in every decision, in the choices I make,  
A woman finds freedom and a world she can shape.

I used to wonder, used to judge,
How lives unravel, how souls begrudge,
How bottles cradle shattered dreams,
And promises fade like distant screams.

Whiskey was a word I spoke
With distant pity, a careless joke,
"Why not fight?" I'd boldly say,
But now I see how hope can fray.

Life rushes in, swift as a flood,
Dreams turned to dust, hearts bruised with blood.
I’ve seen the years slip through their hands,
Plans abandoned like drifting sands.

I don’t seek whiskey's cold embrace,
But now I see the tender space
Where some give in, where strength subsides,
Where the light dims and courage hides.

I used to judge the broken years,
The quiet falls, the stifled tears,
Those who reach their twilight days
With tangled paths and unhealed frays.

But now I know—how life can bend,
How even giants break and bend,
It’s not the weakness I once scorned,
But silent battles left unmourned.

Yet still, I rise, though skies grow dim,
With heavy heart and trembling limb,
To chase the stars, to stand my ground,
To seek the dreams that still resound.

I understand why some give in,
Why whiskey calls beneath the din,
But I’ll face the storms that scar the land,
No whiskey in this steady hand.

For I have learned the weight they bear,
The silent grief, the whispered prayer,
And though I walk through nights untamed,
I’ll keep my fire, unashamed.

Healing taught me everything,  
now I walk without a crutch.  
Detached and free, I’ve let you go,  
two middle fingers up, no need for much.

People come and people go,  
like shadows in the dusk.  
Trust is earned, but once it’s lost,  
two middle fingers up, I’m no longer hushed.

No pedestal to lift you high,  
no tears left to fill my cup.  
You were just a fleeting thought—  
two middle fingers up, I’ve had enough.

Janie played his twisted games,  
but now I see it plainly.  
He’s just a chapter I’ve closed for good—  
two middle fingers up, so long to Janie.

You'll do what you will, regardless.
I don't need to hold you near,
And I'm free with nothing to fear,
two middle fingers up. Timeless.

I stand alone, but I'm at peace,
no weight upon my chest.
*******, kindly. I've moved on,
Now I live my best,

You raggedy *****,
Go be someone's baggedy.