Some nights don’t end, they just disguise
They trade the stars for tired skies.
The sun comes up, but not for me,
It only lights what I can’t see.

I brush my teeth, I comb my hair,
Pretend I’m fine, pretend I care.
But underneath this thin disguise,
A storm is swirling in my eyes.

It’s not a scream—it’s something worse:
A quiet, slow, persistent curse.
A numbness pressed into my chest,
A longing just to finally rest.

"You’re broken goods," the whispers hum,
"The best of you will never come."
And though I know they lie like thieves,
Their poison drips between the leaves.

I try to speak, but words fall short
Like soldiers lost in last resort.
So I just nod and fake a grin,
While hiding everything within.

But still I rise, though barely so,
Though heavy winds refuse to go.
Each breath I take, each silent cry
Is proof I haven’t said goodbye.

Not healing fast, not flying free,
Not who I was, or hoped to be.
But still I walk, though slow and small,
And fight the urge to lose it all.

No ending yet, no twist, no cure
Just strength in choosing to endure.
When darkness stays and will not leave,
I stay as well.
I still believe.

It doesn’t scream it softly stays,
A shadow cast on brighter days.
No sudden wound, no gushing red,
Just heavy thoughts inside my head.

It wakes with me, it walks in stride,
It knows the words I try to hide.
It wraps around each step I take,
A weight that sleep will never break.

"You're tired," it hums, "just let it win,
What's the use of trying again?"
I hear it more than I hear truth,
It steals my fire, drains my youth.

But still I rise, though knees may shake,
Though hope feels thin and sure to break.
I clench my fists against the dark,
I breathe though lungs forget the spark.

They say be strong, they say hold on
But strength is worn, and faith is gone.
I do not roar, I do not shine,
I only try. This fight is mine.

No banners fly, no crowds applaud,
Just aching steps on ground that’s flawed.
But still I walk, and still I choose,
To bear the bruise and never lose.

For every day I drag this pain,
Through choking fog and endless rain,
Is proof enough that I resist
Still here, still real, I still exist.

And maybe that is all I need
No perfect light, no lightning speed.
Just one more breath, one more small try,
One more refusal to say goodbye.

I wear my scars like silent screams,
Dark echoes trapped inside my dreams.
Beneath the cracks, a hollowed beat,
Where pain and shadow coldly meet.

I’ve been a storm, a ruthless sea,
Drowning in my own debris.
Each bruise a chain, each fall a scar
A prisoner behind bars.

I bend but break, I bleed unseen,
A fragile ghost trapped in between.
Worn and shattered, still I stand—
A broken sword in trembling hands.

The nights are black, no stars to guide,
A void where hope has long since died.
My soul a grave, my thoughts decay,
A ruin slowly washed away.

In every tremble, every tear,
There’s rage too fierce to disappear.
So let the world look on and say
I’m lost within my own decay.

I wear the weight of silent cries,
Invisible beneath the lies.
A hollow heart, a cursed refrain
Forever bound in endless pain.

Trapped in a love that won’t release,
Wounds still raw, no sign of peace.
Walls like armor, cold and tight,
Yearning for truth to pierce the night.

Haunted by echoes of whispered lies,
Beneath the silence, the heart still cries.
Shadows dance where hope once grew,
Waiting for light to break on through.

Chains of doubt that bind so strong,
Yet still I cling where I don’t belong.
In the wreckage, I search for grace—
A shattered soul in this empty space.

But somewhere deep, a fire still burns,
A restless flame that twists and turns.
It fights the dark, it breaks the chains,
Refusing to be lost in pain.

Though walls may stand and wounds may bleed,
This love won’t die, it won’t concede.
Waiting for truth to tear apart
The fortress built around my heart.

I wake each day to dragging skies,
With hollow breath and heavy eyes.
The mirror shows a stranger’s face
A ghost that time cannot erase.

My thoughts are storms behind a grin,
A quiet war I fight within.
They see me stand, they see me try,
But never hear the hows or why.

“Go take a walk,” they gently urge,
As if that stops the endless surge.
“Just think good thoughts, and you’ll pull through,”
As if I haven’t tried that too.

I’ve stitched my soul with fraying thread,
And danced on floors where hope has bled.
I’ve whispered truths no one can see,
Like “living hurts,” and “I’m not me.”

The weight I carry, none can chart
A thousand knives deep in the heart.
And when I speak, when I confess,
They offer cures, then change the mess.

I plead in silence, cracked and shattered
And all they say is:

Pitter Patter.

There’s a war beneath my skin tonight,
No peace, no pause, no end in sight.
My thoughts collide like crashing seas,
The quiet screams, The begging pleas.

I wear a smile that doesn’t stay,
It slips and fades and melts away.
Each heartbeat’s loud, but never heard
Each hope, a ghost, each truth, a blur.

I trace the scars you cannot see,
Etched deep in places within me.
My chest a cage, my breath a fight,
I dream of calm, but wake to fright.

I question every word I say,
Then curse myself for feeling that way.
I miss the me I used to know
Before the fractures split my core.

And yet still I stand, though the soul is sore,
A soldier lost in love’s long war.

I carry wounds no eyes can see,
Battles fought inside of me.
My armor cracks with every breath,
As I walk a line between life and death.


Yet here I stand, though torn apart
A bleeding shield, a broken heart.

I carry storms behind my lips,
Tight sealed with trembling fingertips.
The words are there—sharp, wild, and raw
But fear has locked them in its jaw.

Anxiety’s a quiet thief,
It steals my breath, it feeds my grief.
It wraps around each chance to speak
And crushes it before it peaks.

"Don’t say too much," it warns each day,
"They’ll turn, they’ll leave, they’ll walk away."
So I just nod and fake the part,
While rage and ruin flood my heart.

Depression’s voice is darker still
It tells me silence is my will.
"You’re too much weight, too loud, too wrong
You don’t belong, you don’t belong."

And so I smile, small and tight,
While fighting wars deep out of sight.
Each laugh I fake, each breath I hide,
Is one more scar I wear with pride.

Not out of joy–but out of spite.
Because I lived another night.
Because I’ve learned to bear the cost
Of being here, of being lost.

They never hear the words I drown
The quiet screams, the cracking crown.
But every time I do not fall,
Is something soft,
and something small.

A kind of win. A kind of light.
A voice not loud, but still in fight.
And maybe one day I will say
All I have swallowed
day by day.

But for now, silence is my sword.
Unspoken, yes
but never ignored.

I wake beneath a leaden sky,
No reason clear, no answer why.
Just one more day inside this head,
That whispers soft: you’re better dead.

The mirror shows a ghostly trace,
Of someone lost behind a face.
I fake a smile, I fake a laugh,
But feel the break in every half.

My limbs are stone, my breath is thin,
The war begins beneath my skin.
A thousand voices crowd my mind,
So cruel, so loud, so unkind.

"You’ll never change," they start to say,
"You’ll always feel this slow decay."
But still I rise—though slow, though weak
With no grand words I need to speak.

Some days I crawl, some days I stand,
Some days I need a steady hand.
But even when I barely move,
It counts. It hurts. But it’s a proof.

That I am here, despite the tide,
Despite the ache I try to hide.
I walk through storms no one can see,
A quiet war inside of me.

And though I fall, and though I ache,
And beg the dark to give me break
I push, I fight, I breathe somehow,
I may not win, but I won't bow.

So let the night come, cold and wide,
I’ll brace myself and still abide.
No crown, no cheer, no perfect light
Just one more step.
Just one more fight.

In shadows soft where whispers dwell,
She moves—a hush, a woven spell.
With raven hair ‘neath midnight skies,
And starlight caught in brown-hued eyes.

A glance—a spark, both fierce and kind,
She leaves a thousand thoughts behind.
She speaks in looks, her silence sings
Of autumn leaves and angel wings.

A playful smirk, a wistful sigh,
Moonlight curling where she lies—
Not in deceit, but calm repose,
Like twilight's hush and blushing rose.

She blooms in frames, both wild and true,
In every shade, in every hue.
And still she hides—so vast, so wide,
A galaxy she keeps inside.

O muse of screens and quiet scenes,
A rebel soul in faded jeans.
No throne, no stage, no need for fame—
And yet, the stars all know her name.

Don’t ask me if I’m doing fine,
I buried that beneath the line
Where rage once roared, a silence grew,
Now all that’s left is residue.

I used to burn, I used to break,
I screamed until the seams would shake.
But fury fades like all things do
It leaves you cold and hollow too.

You taught me how to bite my tongue,
To swallow pain and stay unsung.
Now every word I don’t release
Becomes a chain that won’t find peace.

I’m not okay, I’m not alive,
I only breathe so I survive.
A statue made from smoke and stone,
A soul that’s tired of breaking alone.

There’s thunder under quiet skin,
A war I fight but never win.
So don’t mistake this vacant face
It’s rage, it’s grief, it’s my disgrace.

But in the ash, a spark remains,
A pulse defiant in my veins.
I’ll rise, not soft, but forged and true
Not who I was, but someone new.

There’s no parade for getting dressed,
No cheers for rising with the rest.
No medals hung for one more day
Of keeping all the dark at bay.

The mirror shows a tired face,
Worn down by time, devoid of grace.
But still I stand, with aching spine,
And claim this wrecked, unsteady line.

My thoughts are storms I cannot flee,
A flood that lives inside of me.
They twist my name, they bend my will,
And yet I breathe, I’m fighting still.

"You’re weak," it says, "Just close your eyes
You’ve had enough of scraped-up tries."
But I’ve grown used to its deceit,
The voice that begs for my defeat.

I’ve learned to rise without a cause,
To push through pain with silent jaws.
No trumpet sounds, no flash of light
Just grit, just breath, just endless fight.

Some days I win by standing tall.
Some days I rise, then start to fall.
But even crawling, cracked with doubt,
I choose to stay not figure out.

There’s no one there to see me crawl,
No crowd that gasps or breaks my fall.
But still I move, through silent screams
The shattered bones of broken dreams.

I don’t need stars or perfect skin,
Just proof I didn’t let it win.
And every day I don’t let go
That’s victory.
Though it won’t show.

I walk through ruins made up of me,
Fragments of who I used to be.
Every step, a memory’s sting,
Every breath, a shattered thing.

Hope flickers low but will not die,
It hides behind a tearless cry.
I speak to ghosts no one can hear,
And hold my fears like souvenirs.

I am the fire, I am the flood,
A quiet storm beneath the blood.
I smile with lips I’ve taught to lie,
And laugh while breaking down inside.

No map to where I’m meant to go,
No anchor left in all I know.
But still I rise on fractured feet
A heart half-torn, yet incomplete.

If love returns, it must be real,
It must not ask my soul to kneel.
Until then, I will bear the ache
A soul rebuilding from the quake.

No one claps when I wake up,
When I drink from the same chipped cup.
There’s no reward for rising slow,
For facing what I’ll never show.

I brush my teeth, I wear a face,
Pretending I still know my place.
The world moves on, and so do I
Half alive, but I still try.

The silence isn’t kind or deep,
It’s loud and sharp; it doesn’t sleep.
And in that noise, I wage my war,
With no idea what it’s for.

There’s no one shouting, “Well done, brave,”
For dodging yet another grave.
Just quiet rooms and heavy air,
And battles fought that leave no scar.

I’m not a hero, not a light
I’m just someone who stays to fight.
No epic tale, no sacred vow,
Just choosing not to vanish now.

The voice still comes to drag me down,
To trade my breath for dirt and ground.
But I have learned to talk it back,
To hold the line when things go black.

It doesn’t feel like strength at all
Some days I rise, some days I crawl.
But every breath I drag in deep
Is something darkness doesn’t keep.

So don’t call me strong. Don’t lie.
Just know I’m here. I didn’t die.
And maybe that’s the quiet art
To lose the world, but keep your heart.

Each day I wake, a silent war
No marching drums, no lion’s roar.
Just heavy limbs and hollow eyes,
And dreams that fracture when I rise.

The sun feels distant, cold, and cruel,
Its warmth a lie, its light a tool.
My thoughts, like chains, wrap tight around,
And pull me down without a sound.

Depression waits behind the glass,
It whispers truths that never pass:
"You're worthless now, you'll always be
A weight, a wound, a mockery."

I wear a mask, I play the part,
But cracks run deep within my heart.
They smile and speak I nod along,
While inside me, nothing feels wrong.

Not wrong, not right just dead and still,
A vacant house atop a hill.
And yet I move, and yet I breathe,
While sorrow coils beneath my sleeve.

Some nights, I drown in silent screams,
In battles fought inside my dreams.
But morning comes I stand again,
Still stitched together by my pain.

Not healed. Not whole. Not shining bright.
But dragging shadows into light.
And if I fall, I’ll rise once more,
Though bruised, though bent, though ****** sore.

So let the dark come stake its claim,
I'll face it all, I'll take the flame.
For even if I lose the day,
I fought—I fought—and didn’t stray.

I choke on words I never speak,
A voice gone thin, a will grown weak.
They crowd my throat like smoke and stone
These thoughts that bloom when I'm alone.

Anxiety wraps tight around
Each breath I take, each subtle sound.
It tells me, Don’t—you’ll say it wrong,
You don’t belong, you don’t belong.

And so I sit in muted war,
A scream locked just behind the door.
While all the world keeps spinning loud,
I vanish slowly in the crowd.

My silence isn't peace or grace
It’s panic sealed behind a face.
It’s hands that shake beneath the sleeve,
A thousand doubts that never leave.

"They’ll never get it," whispers fear,
"Stay small, stay quiet, disappear."
So I obey, and fade from view,
Afraid of what my truth might do.

But deep inside, a war still burns,
A hunger aches, a silence churns.
For every word I long to say,
Another part is stripped away.

Yet still I rise, though barely heard,
A fragile soul with caged-up words.
And maybe someday I will speak
Not polished, proud, or loud—just weak.

But real.

Until that day, I hold the line,
Between collapse and “I am fine.”
This quiet is my battlefield
A place I break
but never yield.

The quiet hits louder when you’re gone,
Like your name etched in every song.
The bed’s still cold on just one side,
And I fake sleep so I don’t cry.

I held your hand in borrowed time,
While you looked ahead and left me behind.
You moved on like it was breath,
While I’m still choking on what’s left.

They said time heals, but they don’t know
That some hearts beat just to feel low.
And every smile I try to fake
Cracks beneath the love you take.

You said I’d be okay someday,
But I was never built that way.
You were my peace, my steady light
Now I’m just shadows in the night.

You laugh in rooms I’ll never see,
With someone else where I should be.
And I’m still here, dressed in regret,
Trying to relive the night we met.

So I whisper to the empty air,
Tell myself you still might care.
But truth is sharp, it doesn’t bend
You were my always,
I was your end.

There’s no reward for getting dressed,
No glory in a half-felt "yes."
No medals shine for brushing teeth
When shadows writhe beneath your grief.

No spotlight waits when you appear,
Just empty rooms and stale fear.
You fake a laugh, you nod, you eat
You fight a war beneath your seat.

The world keeps turning, blind and loud,
While you stay silent in the crowd.
No one claps for hearts on fire
That choose to breathe and not expire.

Some days your spine is made of thread,
Some nights you sleep beside the dread.
But still—you rise, however slow,
With nothing left but still you go.

You’ve learned the art of standing still,
Of smiling through a shattered will.
Not out of hope, not out of peace
But something deeper: no release.

You’re not a poem, not a spark,
You’re a body moving through the dark.
And even when the lights are gone,
Your trembling step still carries on.

So here's to you—the quiet kind,
The ones the world leaves far behind.
You won't be statues, saints, or songs
But god, you're brave for holding on.

Dear Me,
the one with trembling hands
and a heart that cracked like old porcelain,

I remember you.
How you stood in the silence,
shoulders full of thunder
and no one ever heard the storm.

You thought surviving was shameful
as if breathing through the wreckage
wasn't a kind of bravery.
You wore your pain
like it was your fault
instead of your badge.

But let me tell you what I know now:
you were never weak for breaking.
You were strong
for not staying shattered.

I saw how you buried your cries
in late-night ceilings
and learned to smile
with a mouth full of splinters.
That wasn’t failure
that was endurance.

I wish I could’ve held your hand then.
Not to fix you—
you weren’t broken beyond repair.
Just to remind you:
even dim stars still shine,
and every breath you took
was proof of a future forming.

Look at us now.
We are softer,
but never smaller.
We are whole—
not because we never fell apart,
but because we stitched the pieces
with patience,
and wore the scars like art.

Thank you
for not letting go.
Thank you
for being the roots
when everything else was wind.

With love,
—The You Who Made It

Some days I wear my smile
like armor made of glass
fragile at the edges,
but enough to let me pass.

My mind’s a crowded station,
trains of thought collide and bend.
I try to map the silence,
but the static never ends.

Anxiety’s a whisper
that turns into a scream,
telling me I’m sinking,
even when I dream.

Depression's not just sadness
it’s numb behind the eyes,
it’s staring at the ceiling
as another sunrise dies.

I fake the laughs in daylight,
I vanish in the night,
and every little victory
still barely feels like fight.

I’ve heard "you’re not alone"
from mouths that never knew
what it’s like to lose yourself
while standing in a room.

But still, I wake each morning
a breath, a step, a chance.
Even when my demons
try to drag me from the dance.

So if you feel you're breaking,
just know you're not the fault.
You're not weak for being wounded,
you're just human through it all.

I didn't mean to disappear,
it just… happened.
Like fog slipping over a valley,
I faded
while everyone else kept moving.

I was there—technically.
Smiling in photos,
nodding through conversations,
but it wasn’t me
just a shadow wearing my name.

Some nights,
I'd sit in the dark,
not crying—just empty,
like someone turned off the color
and forgot to switch it back on.

I thought I was broken,
but no one saw the cracks.
I was so good at hiding,
I fooled even myself.

There were days I counted hours
like lifeboats,
just trying to make it to the next one.
I'd whisper,
"Just make it till tomorrow."
And sometimes, I did.
Sometimes, I didn’t care.

But here’s what no one tells you:
even when you're lost,
some part of you keeps breathing
even when you hate the air.

And now,
there are quiet moments
where I hear myself again
faint, but real.
Like a song I used to love,
playing softly in the background.

I’m still not okay.
But I’m still here.
And maybe that matters more than I thought.

No banner hangs above my door,
No crowd awaits me on the floor.
No voice says, “You’ve done something great,”
For choosing not to suffocate.

I eat in silence, dress in grey,
Pretend I care, then face the day.
Each step a weight, each breath a chore
But I get up. And then one more.

My mind’s a maze of heavy stone,
It whispers, "Why not be alone?"
It tells me I am weak, a fraud
I smile and nod, then beat the odds.

There’s no reward for staying sane
When every moment pulses pain.
No finish line, no golden crown
Just not collapsing, not breaking down.

Some days I ache to disappear,
But I’m still standing. Still right here.
I light no fire, I spark no flame,
But I survive. I play the game.

Not out of hope or shining grace
But grit that time cannot erase.
I don’t believe in better yet,
But I’m not done. Not just quite yet.

So mark this down, though no one sees
The quiet ones still on their knees,
Who scream in silence, fight in shame
And live another day the same.

You show up like storms,
never a forecast,
just thunder at my door
when your pockets run dry.

Never came to the game,
never called on my birthday,
but you need a favor now—
and suddenly I’m “son” again.

You left more silence
than any man should,
but your guilt only wakes
when your wants outweigh your shame.

I learned how to shave
without your hands,
learned how to fight
without your voice behind me.

You missed the bruises,
the broken hearts,
the nights I cried
'cause I thought I wasn't enough.

Now you speak like
we're a bond unbroken
like love can be bartered
for a tank of gas or a place to crash.

But I’m not your wallet,
I’m not your last resort,
I’m the kid you forgot
until it got convenient.

So here’s what you need to know:
You may have helped make me,
but you never made me strong.
I did that on my own.

Beneath my skin, a silent scream,
A war that steals the will to dream.
Each thought a blade, each breath a chore,
I fight the same fight as before.

The morning breaks, but not for me
The light just burns what I can't see.
It blinds, it mocks, it calls me out,
While I sink deeper into doubt.

I walk through life in shadow’s grip,
With cracks along my sinking ship.
I smile, I nod, I play my part,
While drowning quiet in my heart.

"You’re not enough," the voices hiss,
"No one would notice what they miss."
And though I know they like to lie,
Some days, I still believe I’ll die.

But not today though I am numb,
Though all I feel is what's to come.
Some thread still holds me to the ground,
A fragile tether, barely bound.

It’s not a spark, it’s not a flame,
Just something small I cannot name.
But it's enough to keep me near,
To face the dark, to fight the fear.

So when the weight begins to press,
And I am lost in hopelessness,
I'll grip that thread with trembling hands,
And plant my feet in shifting sands.

I may not shine, I may not soar,
But I will crawl back from the floor.
No finish line, no perfect track
Just breath by breath beneath the black.

Some days, the sun forgets to rise,
Or maybe it does—behind gray skies.
I dress in silence, wear my pain,
A shadow walking through the rain.

The mirror stares, but doesn’t see,
The storm that churns inside of me.
A thousand thoughts, all left unsaid,
A heavy world inside my head.

Laughter feels like distant sound,
A ghost that never lingers ‘round.
And joy—a name I used to know,
Now just a flicker, faint and low.

I try to breathe, but not too deep,
For fear I’ll wake what doesn’t sleep.
The ache is quiet, soft, and slow
A bruise that no one else can know.

But still—I’m here, and that’s not small,
I rise each time I start to fall.
Though light feels far, and hope is thin,
Survival means I’m still within.

They said I was too quiet,
like silence meant I broke
But storms don’t always thunder,
sometimes they just choke.

I wore a mask of "I’m fine,"
stitched from every lie I knew,
Tried to blend in with the shadows
just to dodge what I’d been through.

The mirror became a war zone,
my reflection, not my friend,
Every scar a souvenir
of trying hard to pretend.

But I’m more than all my doubters,
more than every “you won’t last,”
I built a future out of ashes,
from the pieces of my past.

So here I stand, still breathing,
cracked but full of fight
A flame they couldn’t smother,
a soul still chasing light.

They can keep their empty echoes,
their scripts, their plastic crown
'Cause I’ve learned to write my story,
and I’m never backing down.

There were mornings I didn’t move–
just laid there,
staring at the ceiling like it owed me answers.
The weight wasn’t loud,
it whispered.
Told me nothing mattered,
and somehow I listened.

I stopped answering messages.
Stopped singing in the shower.
I stopped feeling
except for that ache
that lived in my chest
like a tenant who never paid rent
but wouldn’t leave.

I learned to fake normal.
Smiles like paper cutouts,
laughs that never reached my eyes.
Friends asked if I was okay
I said I was tired.
No one questioned that.

Years passed like smoke.
Somewhere in the blur,
I lost who I was.
Or maybe I buried him
under the guilt, the silence,
the endless nights staring at a phone
that never rang.

But today
I found an old photo of myself.
And for the first time,
I didn’t flinch.
I looked at that kid,
and I didn’t feel shame.
Just sadness…
and a little bit of love.

Maybe that’s the start.

I walked through years like broken glass,
Left pieces of myself in every path.
Smiled for crowds while dying inside,
Made my pain a mask I wore with pride.

Told myself I was strong, unshaken
But every choice felt like self-betrayin’.
I chased the high, escaped the lows,
Buried guilt where no one knows.

I apologized, not for who I am,
But for what I became when the fire began.
For friends I lost to silence and strain,
For words I said carved deep like pain.

The bottles, the pills, the late-night screams,
The fading light in once-bright dreams.
I never meant to fade away
But the mirror showed me every day.

I stood on stages, played the part,
But left behind a hollow heart.
They cheered the sound, ignored the plea
I was breaking, but who’d see me?

So this is for the nights I can’t forget,
For sins unpaid and deep regret.
For the ones I hurt along the way
I carry that weight every day.

I apologize—not for surviving,
But for the wreckage I left while driving.
For every soul I let down blind,
And for the peace I’ve yet to find.