We spake in shrugs, in “I’m aight,” in dusted-throated lies,
Whilst whole cathedrals collapsed behind our tired eyes.
Thou called it “being strong,” I called it “just survive,”
Yet silence is the sharpest blade e’er kept alive.
My homies text “you good?” — I send a meme, then fade,
Like jesters dancing barefoot where graves and gods are laid.
We choke on unsent paragraphs, on tears we never spill,
For what we do not utter hath the loudest ****
And lo — the tongue grows coffined when the soul feels sore,
We slam our storms in closets then wonder why they roar.
Perchance if we had wept aloud, confessed the hidden ache,
The hearts we lost to quiet may not have had to break.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 11:18 PM UTC
We spake in shrugs, in “I’m aight,” in dusted-throated lies,
Whilst whole cathedrals collapsed behind our tired eyes.
Thou called it “being strong,” I called it “just survive,”
Yet silence is the sharpest blade e’er kept alive.
My homies text “you good?” — I send a meme, then fade,
Like jesters dancing barefoot where graves and gods are laid.
We choke on unsent paragraphs, on tears we never spill,
For what we do not utter hath the loudest ****
And lo — the tongue grows coffined when the soul feels sore,
We slam our storms in closets then wonder why they roar.
Perchance if we had wept aloud, confessed the hidden ache,
The hearts we lost to quiet may not have had to break.
its more than what we don't say that gets in our way
