Not by choice- just how I meh-ry-go-round.
Too many feelings, too small a voice.
Outside? Roses in forced perfection.
Inside? A pit of tar, thick and voiceless.
Heartbreak became my only rhythm.
Peace? Just an echo of chaos I'm used to.
Where joy once danced in daylight,
Now- silence lies, hidden in plain sight.
My thoughts feel static. My heart?
Unbothered.
But in the core-
A ghost of fire, still carrying the hue of hope.
Flickering, faint... but never gone.
Through thorny ways, it's walked alone.
Outlived storms, outlasted siege.
Not with steel- with scars.
Not with pride- with pain.
Love?
I gave it pure, refined through fire.
But gold once bent, doesn't always shine.
Now I walk with my meh- not a mood,
But a map of everything that broke and stayed.
And yet, if this is the price of feeling deep-
Then call me poor in peace, but rich in ruin.
Because, the truth is:
I'm not what survived the fire-
I'm what the fire made.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 4:02 PM UTC
Not by choice- just how I meh-ry-go-round.
Too many feelings, too small a voice.
Outside? Roses in forced perfection.
Inside? A pit of tar, thick and voiceless.
Heartbreak became my only rhythm.
Peace? Just an echo of chaos I'm used to.
Where joy once danced in daylight,
Now- silence lies, hidden in plain sight.
My thoughts feel static. My heart?
Unbothered.
But in the core-
A ghost of fire, still carrying the hue of hope.
Flickering, faint... but never gone.
Through thorny ways, it's walked alone.
Outlived storms, outlasted siege.
Not with steel- with scars.
Not with pride- with pain.
Love?
I gave it pure, refined through fire.
But gold once bent, doesn't always shine.
Now I walk with my meh- not a mood,
But a map of everything that broke and stayed.
And yet, if this is the price of feeling deep-
Then call me poor in peace, but rich in ruin.
Because, the truth is:
I'm not what survived the fire-
I'm what the fire made.
Poem 1, Trilogy 1.
Part 3 out.
His Convictions:
https://hellopoetry.com/p/maqkv
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