bilingual,
c'est un great chose,
i mean,
like voir ceci,
i am typing cette ligne,
et vous are translating,
dans the span d'une seconde,
c'est parmi the meilleur chose in the monde,
wow,
i mean,
je suis rendre speechless,
a votre intelligence,
this ability n'est pas granted a tout le monde,
vous êtes chanceaux,
et moi, i am too.

The same hands that bear the scars
Created heaven and earth and the stars
The same brow that bore the thorns
The crown of glory now adorns
The same heart that was pierced and broken
Now beats within us, finally awoken
The same man we crucified
Has been raised and glorified
He takes us in and loves us
Gives us purpose and focus
He teaches us to learn and improve
To listen and allow the spirit to move
God can take our wounds and make it
Something holy and even sacred
So, remember the wounds and the lessons
And even broken things become blessings

Life once asked the death
“Why do people hate you but love me?”
She asked him curiously
“It’s simple.”
He answered.
“That’s because i’m the painful truth.
And you are the sweetest lie.”

Life was still curious
“What if there are someone who thinks that i’m the painful lie?”
She asked.
“Than, they would think that i’m the sweetest truth.”
He smiled.

I’ve been taught by my mother
That it’s much better to tell bitterest truth
Than sweetest lie.
It’s much better to be honest.

I’ve grown up and learned something
That sweet lies are things that most people seek.
They learned, they fell, they woke up and they walked
By the things that we knew as sweet lies
Life taught me so.

I’ve grown up and learned something
That most of people were frightened by the bitter truth
They know that things existed
They know that, that bitter truth would come
And they would run away, even though they couldn’t.
Death told me so.

But when life hits me hard once.
I know that beautiful lie aren’t beautiful after all.
So is life.
And that teaches me something that i believe until now.
That death is our best friend.
‘Cause he’ll come to us.
It’s just a matter of time.

I’ve been taught that it’s better to be honest.
But we live in things that contained with lie
And i’ve learned from death.
That he'll never tells the truth even though he is the truth itself.

So if you don’t understand what life is
And what death is.
You won’t be able to understand me.
Neither the words that i'll tell you.

That this might be the last lie
From all the bullcrap that spilled out from my mouth
I don’t love you anymore
And i never do.

The body learns to lie before the mouth does.
She moves like seaweed caught in a current,
the siren song of her hips pulling others closer—
a collision, a shatter.
Hormones bloom like coral,
bright and false,
a reef of dopamine
where nothing survives for long.

Reality is a cruel lover;
its hands too heavy,
its voice too loud.
She asks herself,
do you still wait for love?
do you still have patience for the breaking?

When she confronts him,
his grin splits his face like a wound,
a predator's smile,
the sound of firecrackers between them,
smoke where the truth should be.
He speaks of a *******,
of giving his power away,
of someone else making his choices.
She cannot decide if this is freedom
or just another kind of cage.

She remembers herself,
the way tequila burned her throat,
the way she burned brighter,
a girl in red,
posed naked under the gaze of men
who painted her as both light and shadow.
She trusted their hands before they betrayed her.
Before she turned cold.
Before she fell silent.
Before she hid her fire.

Now, she is the ocean’s daughter,
sinking deeper,
listening to the song of water
as it whispers secrets only the drowned can hear.
She wonders:
Do the waves ever grow tired of crashing?
Does the salt remember being a tear?

She lets herself drift,
thinking maybe, just maybe,
the pressure of the deep
is a softer weight
than the heaviness of love.

i love the way snow transforms the world,
makes it cleaner,
brighter,
softer.
it wraps everything in a quiet that feels holy,
like the world is holding its breath
just to listen.

but even snow melts.
it retreats in patches,
revealing the grass,
the cracks in the pavement,
the things i tried to forget beneath the frost.

i think that’s what scares me.
the way beauty can vanish,
the way stillness fades,
how the cold that once felt comforting
can turn to mud in your hands.

nothing stays covered forever.
and maybe that’s the point—
to see what remains
when the snow is gone.

I had a best friend once

Who told me things friends should do

She said they held hands so we did

She kissed me and said it was normal

Slow danced with me during worship at church

Sat on my lap while the pastor said his piece

Told me friends loved each other so I tried to

Until middle school me found the older girl lied

The Morning After I Took My Life
When my lungs released their final breath,
Silence embraced everything around me.
Clothes, makeup, bed, and phone—
All waited, unaware I had already left.

My dog wonders where I’ve gone,
But in paradise, I’ve begun.
A new life, away from it all.

My friends kept calling, kept checking,
Not realizing it was already too late.
The morning after I left,
The world started to notice me.

And in the quiet of this new dawn,
I don’t regret it.

Through shards of glass—distorted clear—
The breath of hope alights,
A fleeting second—woven near,
Then swept in endless flight.

The wing of Remorse, black and wide,
Soars grave—yet softly falls,
While stillness sings where beggars bide,
Their truth in whispered calls.

A fragile bird—its trembling wing—
Descends on open palm,
And in its light—a sacred thing—
The universe is calm.

I weep, and diamonds touch the soil
Of budding hands below,
Their petals rise as mine recoil—
In steady, fading flow.

Dawn casts its gold—a quiet flame—
Upon a barren lane,
Where every branch, by birth reclaimed,
Shudders with joy, not pain.

Oh, breathe! Into the desert womb,
Where life is yet to stir;
Where time is blood—a crimson bloom—
The cosmos’ whisperer.

The lips part faint—the mist exhaled,
Through forests memory-bound,
As scars arise—like ghosts unveiled,
Their echoes all around.

The wolves approach, their foaming jaws—
A temple left to fear,
Where shadows roam and light withdraws,
To eclipse the mind’s veneer.

But truth lies not in mirrored eyes—
Nor past, nor future’s haze;
It lives in fragments, unadvised,
Beyond the jealous gaze.

We float, we fall—we rise, we cease,
And yet, within this span,
The realness of this moment’s peace
Holds all that ever can.