I was once the calm before the storm,
Soft-spoken, eager to please.
I bent and bowed to every demand,
Hoping for some small reprieve.

I was the sun behind the clouds,
A gentle light to guide.
But you saw me as weak, as nothing at all—
Just someone you could bide.

You shaped me with your empty words,
Your lies, your games, your hate.
You laughed as I stumbled and fell,
Thinking I’d accept my fate.

I silenced my voice to soothe your pride,
I smiled through all your games.
I stitched my wounds with fragile hope,
Yet you fed them with your flames.

But storms don’t stay quiet forever,
And wounds don’t heal by chance.
I picked myself up from the wreck you made,
And now I rise, not dance.




I did not create the storm—
I simply became it.
I did not leave it all to chance,
Though that's what you named it.

You called me fragile, weak, a pawn,
A shadow beneath your rule.
But every whisper, every slight—
You fed the fire of a fool.

And now the fool stands cloaked in rage,
Her fury sharp and wild.
You played your games, you stacked your cards,
But you forgot—storms have a child.




You’ll taste the ruin you left behind,
Feel the wreckage you thought was mine.
Each word you spoke to tear me down
Will now burn through your spine.

I am the echo of all you’ve done,
The screams you tried to drown.
The wrecking wind, the searing rain—
I’ll bring it all crashing down.

You’ll hear my name in the howling winds,
Feel my wrath in the quake.
You stole my peace, you shattered my soul
Now the storm is wide awake.


No mercy will I leave in my path,
No corner safe to hide.
Each piece of your fragile world will fall—
I’ll rip it from inside.


Your lies will hang like broken glass,
Cutting through your pride.
And every tear you tried to deny,
Will flood you like the tide.

A reckoning is coming, dear,
You’ll beg for the pain to end.
But this isn’t justice—it’s destruction’s kiss,
A storm you cannot mend.

You’ll know the torment you inflicted,
Feel the cold blade of regret.
For every wound you carved in me,
I’ll leave your soul in debt.


Let your castles crumble, your masks dissolve,
Let chaos reign supreme.
I’ll unravel your world brick by brick
Your life will be my dream.

And when the storm has taken all,
When nothing of you remains,
You’ll finally see the power you gave
To the storm born of your games.

There are dreams I’ve folded, tucked away tight,
Like old forgotten clothes, out of mind, out of sight.
One dream is my family, proud, happy, and strong,
But in truth, they’re splintered, fighting who’s right, who’s wrong.

Another was of healing, of wearing a vet’s coat,
Or moving the masses with the words that I wrote.
Helping the helpless, animals small and in need,
A life lived in service, a world I could lead.

I dreamt of a wedding, a dress pure as snow,
Walking the aisle, to see your smile’s glow.
I dreamt of a farm, vast and self-sustained,
With crops that thrive and animals well-trained.

But the dream I can’t fold, the one that won’t fade,
Is the thought of a child, a love never swayed.
It’s wrapping gifts from “Santa” late Christmas Eve,
It’s seeing you hold them, as they sleep and believe.

It’s watching them grow, teaching what’s right,
Helping them learn from what keeps them up at night.
This dream, I hold close, though I dare not say,
It lingers with me, every step, every day.

I don’t ask for this dream, nor expect it to be,
But it clings to my heart, a part of me.
Folded, yet vivid, it whispers, not yet,
For some dreams stay alive, though they’re placed in regret.

I wish you’d rise above it all
And be the person I thought I saw.
The loving parent I dreamed you’d be,
Cherishing your kids unconditionally.
But once again, I see the truth—
That dream was never meant for you.

You taught us right from wrong, it’s true,
But failed to practice what you knew.
Believing yourself better than the rest,
Yet you’re no top-notch, high-class success.
Not even the middle ground you aspired to be,
But the dollar store version of what a parent shouldn’t be.

Your children are shattered, broken, and torn,
But instead of reflection, you point and scorn.
Blaming others, yet blind to this fact:
Every hand shaped the pain we’ve packed.
One told us love wasn’t ours to claim,
That our worth was tied to our weight and shame.
Another sought love and found none to give,
While one taught us grace in how to live.
The rest hid away, their courage sold,
Leaving us with lessons both cruel and cold.

But you, you’re the real masterstroke—
You taught us to carry everyone’s yoke.
To put ourselves last, to give and give,
Till there’s nothing left in us to live.
Now we’re all broken in different ways—
One’s near the grave, another astray,
And the last just fights to make it through the day.

They cry softly at night, their breath so thin,
You wouldn’t notice—it doesn’t fit in.
All they’ve ever wanted was to make you proud,
To feel seen, even once, above the crowd.
But your plans for them twist and betray,
Stealing their hope and their dreams away.

You rob them of money, of land, of peace,
All for a façade that will never cease.
Chasing a life to save face at work,
Pretending you’re more than a person who shirks.
But the truth is plain for all to see—
You’ve failed them, and you’ve failed me.

It’s hidden in my heart,
Behind lock and key,
Always present,
Yet never free.

Spoken into existence so long ago,
As bridges burned ever so slow.
I didn’t mean to bury these dreams so deep,
But in fragile spaces, they could not sleep.

I couldn’t let them define who I was,
For fear of a mold,
Shaped by others' expectations
Of what they thought was right for me.

They were ever so close—
A whisper of truth, a flicker of light—
But really, they were far,
Out of reach, hidden in the night.

Now, it doesn’t matter;
The dream stays locked in my heart.
It cannot escape; it cannot exist.
The time has passed; it’s too late for this.

It takes two to want this dream to breathe,
But why does its captivity still grieve me?
Why does it staying locked feel so wrong?
A quiet ache that lingers so long.

Maybe, just maybe, he’ll want this too,
And in one shared moment,
He’ll break through,
Unlocking the door, setting us both free,
A shared vision of love and legacy.

But I don’t think he will;
That fear runs deep,
A shadowed truth I hold and keep.

And so I whisper to myself,
“It’s the divine’s will,
A path unseen, a space to fill.”

Yet still, the lock presses heavy on my heart,
Its weight a reminder of dreams kept apart.
I wonder, I hope, but silence remains,
And in the quiet, I feel the pain.

Twenty years, a lifetime in a breath,
Moments of joy, and trials that test.
A bond forged strong, yet time has shown,
Even the mightiest rivers carve new stones.

Love endured, though struggles grew,
As dreams were altered, plans askew.
Her strength once bright, now shadows cast,
A disability’s weight, a bond held fast.

Yet even love can feel the strain,
When one surrenders to endless pain.
Not by choice, but a path she’s known,
Leaving both to feel alone.

Then a spark ignited, a newfound fire,
A heart once dormant, now lifts higher.
Through your eyes, he sees the light,
A soul reborn, embracing life.

How can one not love a heart so dear,
Yet embrace the joy when new love's near?
Breaking free, not out of disdain,
But to dance in sunlight after the rain.

Steps may falter, but strength is alive,
Together you flourish, together you thrive.
Honoring the past, yet forging ahead,
Two souls united, where happiness spreads.

The words burst forth like a broken dam,
Overwhelming, overflowing, unstoppable, they amass.
For so long they were restrained,
Restricted, constricted, told to remain.
But now they flow, unbound, unchained,
And I am at the mercy of their reign.

The power of feelings, the weight of their might,
Caught in the undertow, pulled into the fight.
Drowning, yet somehow I can finally breathe,
As if the words have stitched a wound beneath.
I feel more like me, freer than before,
The world sharper, clearer, an open door.

Hope glimmers softly, like dawn’s gentle light,
Breaking through the end of a long, gloomy night.

Let me tell you a story:
A life unfolds, layered and vast,
Haunted by shadows, shaped by the past.
A spirit resilient, striving to be strong,
Carrying burdens we’ve all borne too long.

Dreams of creating, of tales untold,
A pen in hand, a heart seeking gold.
Yet whispers of doubt, relentless and slight,
Echo, "You’re not enough," in the still of the night.

Through love and loss, through joy and pain,
We weather storms, again and again.
Our hearts, battlefields; our minds, a maze,
Still searching for beauty in shadowed haze.

Families fracture; the pieces retreat,
Strength is forged where chaos meets defeat.
The yearning for love, for something secure,
A place where our souls might finally endure.

Our voices speak of longing, of finding our way,
Of nights spent alone, of hopes for the day.
Shadow work deepens; truths come to light,
Healing old wounds in the quiet of night.

We love with hearts both tender and fierce,
Though doubts linger on, and old wounds pierce.
In small, quiet moments, joy does reside—
A sunrise, a friend, a pet by our side.

We seek no labels, no rigid mold,
Just freedom to live, to grow, to unfold.
We are not broken; we are wonderfully real,
Tapestries woven of all that we feel.

Our stories are ours, messy and bright,
Dances between darkness and chasing the light.
Though questions remain, we’re carving our way,
Souls ever growing, day by day.