She began as a child
With naive hope of a better future
One where her dreams came true
And the darkness of her past kept
Only in words

Yet here she sits today
That same hurt girl
No longer a child
But still with the fire of hope in her
Now holding the same weight but ten fold

She feels like she can no longer move
Crippled by her own self doubt
Stuck in her ways
An illness she thought time could cure
Yet here she remains

May 10 more years pass by
May she stand up and move forward
May she be who she wants to be
May her dreams become real
May she be happier than I

Run, run little birdy
go as far as you can
faster, hurry!

The farther the better
the problems you've left behind
you can't handle the pressure

The fake sun you seek
is only a mirage
an easy way out from the problems you've wreaked

You should know you're meant to fly
Yet why
why can't you understand it was you sigh
who took yourself from the sky.

They say to find yourself
I found myself lost
I know I can leave
I keep myself here at a cost

Self worth
it decreases with my inaction
but I find that inertia keeps me complacent
when I am lost I can hide from my troubles
my fears not existent

You see I'm not lost in position temporally or spatially
I'm lost in my ways
I know who I am
Just not what I want to be

I have a road but I don't want to pick a direction
yet the more I wait
the bumpier and uglier the road gets
what if it's gone one day?

Then...

Then I'll truly be lost.

I see
double, pairs,
twins, couples.

yet

in the mirror,
I see one.

The string that tied us was always heavy
Hung from it was silver and gold
I watched you hug them tight like they were your treasure
But did you look at the one on the other side of that string?
I let you keep it, not sparing me a glance
And I watched you stretch that string
Until it broke
I had chosen you
But you had chosen silver and gold
So I pretended
Pretended we were still tied
The only thing that kept me in this pretense
Was the blood we both shared
Now that they've flown away
far from this misery and fakery I called marriage
It's time I step away
My heart has scattered enough gold
There's nothing holding me back.

Look I know my own shortcomings very well.
I procrastinate.
I’m lazy.
I have no ambitions.
But there comes a time when you should look inside yourself and look at your own flaws.
I am not your mirror.
Something to yell at because you see yourself and what you could have been.
I have my own demons and flaws that I acknowledge.
It’s time you acknowledge yours.

I don’t understand what makes it so hard for you to understand
That taking someone’s flaws and mocking them with it
Constantly pulling out their weaknesses again and again
Day after day and then comparing them to others
Is not a way to motivate someone
To reach the heights you dreamt them to soar
No what you’re doing is asking a chained and caged bird to fly high
What height?
How high?
To a sky I can’t see?
Because I’m stuck in the darkness of my own self hate, self pity

Guilt is not your weapon to wield
My wounds are not your higher purpose
You do not seek to heal
You say it’s for my own good
But why do you say I used to be so much better than then
Yet they were able to reach such heights?
Is this some kind of cruel punishment that I deserve?
Is it not your own face you’re trying to save?
While stepping on my pride, my being, my person?

I’m trying to be a better person
Next to you
I’m lesser than
I’m just no one.

In our love story
The world was pink
your embrace was my home
quiet nights spent under sheets
each breath with you in mind

The world was beautiful
Cherry blossoms bloomed to the music of our love
thoughts of you followed by bright smiles
pleasure that broke through dawn's light

The world was ours
eyes that only saw each other, lips that only knew us
intertwined in soul in body, with each touch our souls were one
I love you-

The end.
Our love story, it's just a story
Stories end, lives continue
No matter how beautiful
when I wake up we're only strangers.

A gardener once had 2 two seeds
they planted both in the same soil

one was healthy and robust
the other, weak and frail

Pitying the weak seed
the gardener gave special care

It was attentively fertilized,
watered meticulously,
weeds picked out regularly
sunlight regulated.

The gardener watched the weak seed
crying as it finally bloomed after all the struggle

Rejoicing, the Gardner turned to the healthy seed
but it had never sprouted.

Dried up in the air fryer
Running like we are the forever riders
Stolen nugget in the air fryer
No permission but full of vision
To fill the feelin’ of hunger
In a night of glutton-blunder

I live in wondrous worlds but none my own.
Reality is the nightmare from which I awake.
The lives I choose to live are but a fantasy.
Dreams are fleeting; my world is absolute.
Time stops in the make-believe.
It can only tick without end, for
that is life.

I live in between the wisps of dreams and echoes of stories
I am man
I am woman
I am thing

I live in countries, planets, solar systems, universes, realms and times
I fly on mounts of wondrous creatures
I fight wars of bloodshed wielding scheme, sword, and sentence
I fall in love

Yet I die with "The End"
because the life I live it's not my own
It's a collection of words, it's a collection of images
It's fiction

When "The End" is here, I am me
And my problems become mine
Reality must be acknowledged
But here as me is the last thing I want to be

I knew you loved her
Your eyes sang with gold and mouth full of tenderness
You were happy

I was the flower that was easily admired
but quick to rot
easy to throw away and forget

Did you ever realize?
You cut me from my roots
placed me in a vase and left

I had to watch you leave with a smile
She was a flower that bloomed under the light of your smile
I hope you don't pluck her buds as you did mine

I'm no longer a flower.

A back pain not from age.
A back pain not from posture.
A pain with no physical cause.
A pain born from the weight of others —
burdens that were never mine.
I am not your resting place.
I am not your guide.
Before my back breaks,
I choose to unload.
I’ve been walking slow enough.
It’s time I fly.

To be born with more
means to grow receiving less

To be born stronger
means to grow with less care

To be born smarter
means to be left unattended

To be born with more
means to survive on your own
because you don't need help
you are enough on your own

But you know what will never be enough?
a love that was never given
because

to be born with more
means to be loved less.

Some inherit money
Some inherit wealth

Some inherit houses
Some inherit heirlooms

And some inherit trauma
Passed down generation by generation

Trickling
     down
           the
              family
                   line

There's no value, no significance
Just a void, just a wound

A blight passed from parent to child
A scar inflicted from parent to child

It's a debt owed for the gift of life
paid in pain, paid in blood

Generational pains are standard
a reminder of who came before

If a trauma cannot be healed
it is passed on

The mantel will be pass,
and you're next.

Guilt takes my air.
Guilt takes my breath.
She’s the one who squeezes me into compliance.
She’s a teacher and a disciplinarian.
To suffocate is to learn.
To learn to bend.
To learn to submit.
A lesson taught without punishment
is a lesson taught without purpose.
Pain etches memories —
and these memories never fade.

Second place is satisfactory
except in a parent's heart
2 is less than 1
because it has 1 more burden to carry
1 more empty void to spill from
and that's why it can never be 1.

When did my skies become so gray?
When did I get so used to a cloudy view?
When was rain such a common occurrence?
Where has my sun gone?

I remember when warmth touched my skin
Skies a vibrant blue
clouds shaped like objects
Everything bright and clear

Is this a byproduct of age?
the order of my birth?
their expectations?
an inevitability?

I thought money would bring back my sun
or a warm body next to mine
or external approval
or a prestigious title

Yet here I am
emptier than before
standing under the downpour
asking myself,

where has my sun gone?

Body entwined in burden
heart cold from solitude
mind numb from pain
a weary soul trudging along

my gaze turned inside, tired of looking out
and I saw a small flame
barely visible in the dark depths
it flickered

on
off
on
off

I stared in wonder
at the beauty of the light
against the darkness it was enclosed in
boldly dancing despite its fragility

on
off
on
off

perhaps the sun...

the flame roared to life

perhaps the sun never left me
I had forgotten where it was.

Words stab and leave invisible wounds —
Wounds that don’t bleed, but ache all the same.
What you don’t see, you may never know.
What you don’t feel, you may never understand.
Your words are blades you wield without knowing.
And I — I’m the fool who receives them, smiling still.

We’re all just trying to live in this world.
You began surrounded by so much callousness.

Life has been rough on you—
so you’ve run, you’ve hidden.

But when you spend too long in others’ shadows,
under the illusion of sunlight
borrowed from the dissipating heat of those beside you,

you forget a warmth unborrowed
that envelops your whole body—
the sun’s true embrace.

It may be uncomfortable, standing alone.
Some days, you’ll feel the downpour of the elements,
and you’ll weather them on your own.

But once you know a pain, a sorrow, a joy, a laughter
that belongs only to you,

it’s an amaranthine feeling.