Children of one heart,  
Devotion's ocean runs deep,  
Colors make it clear.

Whispers in the breeze,
Leaves pirouette, gold and red,
Autumn sighs softly.

The older I grow,
Parents, once heroes, now seem
Just like me, they are.

Beneath kind words lies,
Silent strings pull hearts like thread,
Shadows weave their will.

Hold me through the night,
Endless love in whispered breaths,
Stay, my heart’s one light.

silent strength within,
words and bodies claimed in vain
minds untamed, fierce free

she brings the rain, soft and slow,  
a hush of silver, a gentle glow.  
yes, i care for springtime bright,  
but care for nothing in her light.  

she brings the rain, the world turns grey,  
yet melts the clouds, she clears the way.  
in dawn’s embrace, so cool, so wide,  
she brings the rain, i stand inside.

Sometimes all I need
a soul to mirror my own.  
Am I too much, though?

Beating me to tears,  
then you hold me, comforting
a cruel, warm circle.

Moonlight softly glows,  
are your eyes upon it too?  
Hearts drift, unknowing.

Unloved, I have felt,  
You love me now, but would you  
Call me your daughter?

i think i found peace,
you and i were not meant to  
but i still look back.  

someone checks my list,  
life is full, bright, and moving,  
yet you cross my mind.  

was it even love?  
then i feel how much i cared,  
yes, it surely was.

when i talk back, do you feel the rage
a storm inside, a tightening cage?
would you strike, would you scream, let the fury begin?
or is that your father, staring within?

i see the shadow in your gaze,
a past that lingers, sharp as blades.
the echo of him, cold and grim
tell me, love… are you just like him?

Once a hand held me,  
now I rust in silent dirt,  
spikes dulled by lost wars.

Men created God,
to deny life’s true makers
Eve bears their old sin.

whenever i’m real,
nobody hears.
the media prefers silence
wrapped in static,
muted truths.

i speak of faith,
of laws,
of power
and watch the room
empty.

but sadness?
ah...
they lean in.
eyes soft,
nods rehearsed.
the ache is digestible.
the wound, relatable.

funny, isn’t it?
how we hush the loudest truths
yet cradle
our quiet despair
like it's holy.

we ignore the roots,
but mourn the rot.
it's funny.
almost.

have you ever seen the bugs that aren't really there?
heard whispers in silence, echoes in air?
do you ever drift as your body walks on
mind far away, but your limbs still drawn?

like a puppet pulled by invisible thread,
going through motions while thought plays dead.
a machine in flesh, with a ghost inside,
screaming no, while the hands comply.

that’s what i’m in, this vacant storm,
a hollow shell in a human form.
i don’t feel real; i’m smoke in the sky.
not even death feels like a why.

everything’s nothing, it all feels fake,
a dream you forget the moment you wake.
even heaven, even hell, seem bare
like bugs and noise that were never there.