Your heart is a wildfire,
burning bright,
too fierce for most to survive.
You love with your whole self,
with every scar, every hope, every pulse,
and it leaves you open,
vulnerable, raw.

You carry the weight of loyalty
like a crown of thorns—
every betrayal cuts sharper
because you believed
so completely,
so endlessly.

The world takes what you offer
and often cannot return it.
It leaves you hollow, aching,
searching for a place
where your love won’t be too much,
where your fire won’t scorch the hands that try to hold it.

Your curse is not weakness.
It is your depth, your intensity,
the way you bleed for others
even when no one asks you to.
It is your fire
and your fracture,
your beautiful, unstoppable,
******-to-feel-everything heart.

You are a storm,
quiet in the corners, loud in the marrow.
Strong, unshakable,
pushing past limits most would crumble under,
yet beneath the fire, your heart bleeds
rivers no one else can cross.

You give too much,
love too deeply,
and it leaves you hollow
when the world can’t hold it.
You crave connection,
but people often falter
where your loyalty demands constancy.

Loss carved you,
trust broke you,
and yet, you rise.
Fierce but fragile,
wild but searching,
bending but never breaking.

You see what others miss,
feel what others ignore.
Scars, pain, grief—they follow you,
but they don’t define you.
They make you alive,
resilient, unforgettable.

You are ambition in a heartbeat,
storm in a quiet room,
love in a world afraid to feel.
And though your story is still being written,
every crack, every ache, every fight
makes you raw, human, and
impossible to forget.

The walls still hum with what was lost,
a silence deep, a heavy cost.

We reach through air that will not bend,
to find beginnings at the end.

The floor is cracked, the light runs thin,
we search for doors that won't let in.

And though the ache has made us new,
it carved our hearts and split them too.

A crack runs through the sky,
and nothing fits together.

Air too heavy to breathe,
days collapsing into themselves,
nights stretched thing and endless.

We became silence-
chairs empty, voices swallowed,
a rhythm that lost its beat.

The ground kept moving
but we didn't.
We stayed in that moment,
shattered glass scattered across the floor,
cutting us each time we tried to walk forward.

Even now,
the air hums with absence,
a weight we cannot lift,
a shadow that will not fade.

September never left.
It only lingers,
an ache that teaches us
how to keep breathing
inside of broken things.

you wre my favorite sound-
all heart,
no rhythm.
a mess of lyrics
i tried too hard to make make sense.

i gave you verses,
melodies stitched from my spine.
sang you through storms,
waited for you
to meet me at the chorus.

but you
kept fading out,
leaving me
with static
and silence.

and now-
you're humming again,
soft,
like maybe you remember the words.
like maybe you finally hear
the song i never stopped playing.

but i don't know
if this is a remix
or a repeat.

because needing you
always felt like singing
into a mic
that wasn't plugged in.

and god,
i don't know if i can
record this pain
again.

some days i wake up
and immediately want to go back to bed.
not because i'm tired-
because existing feels like a group project
and no one told me the due date.

i laugh at dumb memes
while my brain whispers
"you're falling behind."
but behind what?
behind who?
nobody knows,
wer're all just pretending we do.

i say "i'm fine"
with the confidence of a bad liar
and the world keeps spinning
like it didn't just hear me crack a little.

i romanticize sunsets
beacuse they remind me
that even endings can be soft.
but some nights feel like
sleeping in a hoodie that doesn't smell like anyone anymore.

i want to be loved
without needing to explain
the weird parts.
the quiet panic.
the jokes i make to cover the silence.
the fact that sometimes
i don't respond
because i have nothing left to say
that doesn't sound like an apology.

but hey-
i'm still here.
i held on.
i laughed today.
i ate a cookie and didn't cry after.
so yeah,
i swear i'm trying.
and maybe that's enough for today.

I was born with upside-down dreams
and mismatched shoelaces.
they told me to tie them tight,
but i liked the way they tailed.
said it made me trip-
i liked the fall.
it showed me the ground was softer than people.

i used to fold myself small,
like a paper crane in someone else's hands.
until one day,
i flew crooked.
and it felt
right.

they said "be normal."
but normal never sang in my key.
normal never laughed mid sentence,
or wore clouds on its sleeves.

you?
you might speak in colors,
walk in zigzags,
or cry when the sun sets too fast.
good.
that means you're alive.

we're not broken.
we're just not mass-produced.
so yeah, maybe this didn't make sense
at first.
but maybe it was never supposed to-
because you were never supposed to fit.
you were born to stand.