I solation is what kills me.
S o I scream for help—
O nly then, silence echoes louder.
L iving amongst false illusion alone,
A life in an empty home of a lonely heart.
T hroughout my time, I use this map.
I tried to find hope in the dark.
O f course—
N othing shows the path.

Here’s the truth…
“I wanna die,”
“I wanna survive,”
the ropes are tearing me,
pulling me apart,
like tug of war.
I wanna cry
but my tears are dry.
I wanna go back
and try to start over—

But I can’t…
I can’t sleep,
I can’t breathe,
I can’t see,
I can’t be free,
I can’t find what I seek.

I can’t scream—
my voice breaks.
I can’t be saved.
I’m stuck in my room,
I can’t love you.
I can’t be loved.
I can’t be enough.

I can’t find you,
I can’t find me.

I hate myself,
I hate who I am,
and I miss the
old me who didn’t.

I hate my life,
I hate the time,
I hate this day,
I hate every minute,
I hate the memories I made—
but they’re all I have left.

I hate the silences.
I hate the noise.
I hate walking away,
I want to stay,
but I’m always a memory away.
I hate the pain and ache of wanting,
yet never being heard.
I hate everything,
It hurts!

*******,
**** me,
**** everyone
who lies and say
it’s gonna be ok,
the talents I hold,
every word I spoke,
this poem I wrote,
the illusions of hope,
the isolation—
I’m getting cold
and alone…

The Crooked Man’s
living rent-free,
laughing.

I wanna scream
into the void—
*******!
Because I’m still here.

In the silent hills,
a ghost cabin stands,
left cold and abandoned
in the woods,
where once a family lived.

A house of
broken memories,
a weary hunter’s reflection,
a haven for those
who wandered hope
for far long.

Untold stories linger—
of heroes into ghosts,
lost souls for those
who never passed
the test.

Their hearts—
decomposed and forgotten,
their bones mold into
the old wooden walls,
their essence carved
into splintered floors,
as mushrooms bloom
through roofs of despair.
Their souls burn
in the chambers
of the fireplace,
where their screams
forever haunting
the hunter’s mind.

To pass the test
is to let go of
what haunts
and follows.
To claim the courage
to love yourself again.

If you see
the Crooked Man,
don’t trust his crooked smile.
Though you must play
the forbidden games—
A twisted duel
of Solitaire and
Russian Roulette.

Survive until dawn,
and your soul will go on,
free for another day
to continue your journey
toward peace…

There were all
the things you
don’t see about me.
I can’t open up to you,
and lately, I don’t
know what to do.

I wanted to say all
the things you don’t see.
If only we had
one moment alone—
but I barely see you
nowadays.

The thief of lonely
lingers in the shadows,
drives me crazy,
slowly killing me like poison,
stealing pieces of my soul,
breaking my voice,
leaving no words
to speak, shout, or scream
all the things you don’t see.

So I stopped
trying to reach
what’s no longer there,
but you never noticed
I was gone.
That’s all the things
you don’t see.

I am one person,
trapped in one
nightmare,
playing one
endless game
of solitaire,
with cards of
my own choices
and decisions
made with regret.

Time devours me,
a feast for parasites
and maggots,
while I ache
to forget
myself--
****** myself
with hate...

I sit in
a wheelchair,
stare at the
white walls
of my own
mind’s cruel game—
solitaire confinement,
inprisoned in
loneliness…

I remember the terror—
Embers of 25,
the endless days
and nights.

Winds of thousand voices
roared louder than thunder.
The fire burned sharper,
hotter than ever,
reaching sky-high,
dancing to choke the air,
slaughtering and devouring
memories of what once was,
making us to fall
like ashes to the grounds.

The unexpected sacrifice
left us traumatized,
but it symbolize
how together,
we will rise,
burning brighter
and stronger than
The Ember of 25.

It’s 12 o’clock.
I see a lock
on the door
but I forgot I
have no key.
I rot in a box
as the bugs eat
my facade face.
Critics watched
me struggle
in this dark place,
I wish to be free,
to be loved…