Late nights
Car rides
Came into my life
Like the most beautiful star
In the dark sky.

Souls made of broken promises
And shattered dreams,
Trying to find a safe haven
In the arms of the other.

Will the demons that haunt us
Dance together?
Will they destroy
One another?

Souls made of scars,
Our shattered pieces
Trying to fit one another.

Is it too early,
Is it too late?

Late nights,
Car rides,
A dance of naked bodies
In the moonlight.

Shattered souls
Of broken promises.

Will this, too,
Become nothing more
Than a memory—
A story our future selves
Tell about the past?

Ash and bones,
lightning and fire —
I lie in a battlefield,
covered with corpses.

No swords.
No guns.
Just my hands
and my war cry.

Battling myself,
battling the world.

The corpses begin to rise.
Ash and bones —
they stare at me,
and I stare back.

In the battlefield of my mind,
I face the bodies
of every version of me
that had to die.

Before the first dawn split the sky,
before light learned to speak,
there was darkness
endless, ancient, alive. 🌑
From that abyss came chaos,
from chaos came pain,
and from pain came us.
We are not children of the light.
We are forged by shadow,
carved by silence,
tempered by storms no eye has seen.
The world believes darkness destroys.
It does not.
It creates.
It burns away illusion,
tears apart weakness,
and leaves only truth standing.
Your scars are not wounds
they are scripture,
verses written in fire and survival,
proof that you were broken open
only to be rebuilt unshakable. ❤️
Do not curse the shadows
that raised you.
They taught you what the light never could:
that strength is not given..
it is forged in the places
no one dares to look.
Even the stars were born
from the deepest black,
their brilliance a rebellion
against the void. 🌹
And so are you.
Rise, not quietly,
but like a prophecy fulfilled.
Rise, not as a survivor,
but as a storm that silences the rain. 🔥
We are all born of shadows...
and shadows do not fear the dark.

— Heart Hacker 🫀

Swinging in a blanket swing,
the sun hitting most of my body,
cold wind hitting my arms and face—
autumn’s coming slow and steady.

I close my eyes,
the sun hits my face,
leaves rustling, kids playing,
I fall asleep—
listening to the sounds of divinity.

scattered thoughts
empty pages
mind swirling
ink not spilling