I'm an artist.

I feel everything. Nothing is too small or too big in my world. I'm an artist. I write and create, I dream and fantasize, there is music in my dreams. There's color everywhere. I'm an artist, I feel more than I see. There's magic where I'm from.

I sing with the birds every morning. I hum the softest notes. I'm an artist. Life is a musical to me. There's music everywhere. I'm an artist. I live for life, and I live for moments. I live for meet cutes and roses. I live for glitter and purses. I live for shoes and jackets. I live for power and strength. I live for music, poetry, and films. I live for heartbeats and strings. I live for the plot.

I'm an artist, I strut about like a lioness. There's no fear in my veins, only chords. In thee end, behold angels applauding, and singing, standing ovation, lights everywhere. Glitter on my face with my yellow sequin dress, floating up above. Standing ovation. I'm an artist and when the Father meets me, I will sing, "I have lived. I have lived. I have lived. Indeed I had fun."

I'm an artist. I have me, I have it all. ✨️I have it all✨️.

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.

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.

On my worst days
I'm a mess
On my best days
I'm a terrible mess
Most of the time
I'm a gracefully shattered soup bowl,

I'm a wonderful mess
Glorified mess
Confident mess
I'm 'gonna show them what I got' mess
I'm 'Better days are coming' mess
I'm a mess with a hope,

Ideas, I'm an innovative mess
I'm a lonely mess
'i don't know who I am' mess
I'm a lost mess
I'm a proud mess
You should see me
I walk bodly, keep my head up, strut about like I was America's first model
I embrace the mess that I am
Because this mess is a
Friend, daughter, student, leader
This mess is a lover, partner, ride or die
This mess is imperfectly perfect
This mess makes mistakes
Has regrets
But this mess will never give up...
Truth is , I'm not even a mess anymore
I'm just a shattered clay,
BrokenSoup bowl
My Potter's touch failed me...

24-72: Your internal organs decomposed
3-5: your very body started to bloat and blood containing foam leaked from your mouth and nose
8-10: you turned into your least favourite colour-red.

See, I'm trynna understand how I feel about you
I've learnt to love you the same way I've learnt to embrace my dark days.
It's fine until someone asks, 'Where is your dad?'
I smile and tell them you're late
You should see how their eyes lit up when I tell them,' it's fine, that it's okay'
They look dissatisfied
Like I'm supposed to cry talking about you
Like the loneliness In me should scream for comfort
Like the pride in me should shrink into nothingness
Like this heart should only beat for you
Like these hands should remind me that you once lived- existed, laughed and loved
Like I'm not complete without you
Like I cannot be the spitting image of you without trying to manifest my individuality
Like I'm supposed to shiver to the very thought of our memories.
Am I supposed to feel something?
Ain't I complete?
Ain't I a heroine?
Tell them
Didn't I carry my cross? Took all stones thrown at me and never asked for help?
Didn't I blossom into spring after you withered like leaves into autumn?
Didn't I carry my head up- shining into sunset?
You tell them!
Tell them not to feel sorry for me!
See, this life is crazy, love is fragile and good days don't last. So, it's okay...
It's more soothing knowing you're up there than down here...
So I figure, if my mother, the love of your life survived your fall, then maybe I, will survive the presence of your absence
I figure, loving you will not heal me but it will hold my heart the day I find the courage to heal myself
They say they're sorry for my loss
Loss?
No
I never lost you, you're not dead to me,
All we ever needed was time
That's all we lost...
So,Rest in me

Are you still harsh?
Why am I still scared of you?
Slow down and tell me,
Do you love like a sister now?
Can you protect like a brother?

I need to know
See, I took all this time to ease the pain inside
Stitch all the wounds and cover the scars within

I'm learning to love again
It's a process
It might be too slow for you, I fear
Is it safe?
Is there any need for all this amour?

Please let me know in time...

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.

I am too!
You're not alone.

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.

When I tell you I love you
I'm not reciting another poem
It's an invitation
A call for attention
Baby!

May your love rearrange me if it can
May it heal,
Attend to the bruises and scars the past lover left

May your love make it rain
Drops of warmth,
Clouds of assurance,
Winds of comfort,

May your love run so deep,
Fast enough to catch every piece of this broken heart
May it listen on days I can not utter a word

When I tell you I love you
I'm not trying to sound like Maya
Oh lover!

May your love be a medley
Let it be too music
To compose all the pain, betrayals and hurt into a beautiful song
A melody that can teach me to love myself as I love you

My love is a journey less walked
Too ***** and full of gravel
Be patient with me
I'm still learning to travel
This narrow path
Called love

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.

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.

I called
Ten, eleven times
You didn't pick up but you're right
I should've tried again
Tried again even though every unanswered phone call broke a piece of me
****** the life out of me

Where were you?

Do you know the waves i dived trying to get to you?
Do you know the hell I had to put up with?
The fears I had to face?
The tears I cried hoping you'd hear my agony and turn around?
Do you know how a vow from you tormented my existence?
You let me down
You said a man can be trusted and a father can stay

You lied

I just wanna know why you left
Why you're still not here
Is that fine?

Bathing is a love language
Refreshing as red roses
Exciting as sunflowers

Bathing is an act of self love
Relieving as escaping an abusive relationship
Indulging to a spoon of ice cream
Bathing is comforting

It's the first cup of coffee in the morning
Soothing as a cup of coffee after a bad day

Bathing is another way of saying, ' I am tired but I still love you.'

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.