They say, "Stop. Stop what you love,
Stop the flow, the pulse, the shove
Of passion in your fingertips—
A world you build with every grip."
Each word a weight that presses deep,
A silent scream, a heart that weeps.
Why must I bend? Why must I break?
When all I crave is just a break?
They know the truth—
Yet still they speak
The words that twist,
The words that peak
In bitter taste,
In heavy air,
A life they steal,
A soul laid bare.
I am not evil, not the foe—
Just one who seeks a place to grow.
But all around, they tear it down,
And I wear silence like a crown.
Even love feels cold and strange,
When those you trust just rearrange
Your world, your thoughts, your very soul,
And call it evil when you feel whole.
Am I not allowed to breathe, to dream,
To chase the fire, to let it gleam?
Or must I fall and fade away,
To ease the weight of others' sway?
I am suffocating, fighting fast,
But I have no choice—
This pain won’t pass.