Some people glide through life—
clean suits,
straight spines,
their hands untouched by the dirt
we call home.

And then there’s us.
We shuffle, we stumble,
we laugh too hard at bad jokes
and spend too long staring at walls
that don’t answer back.

Our lives are broken bottles
held together with tape—
still sharp, still dangerous,
but ours.

And if we ever make it—
if we ever find a way to rise,
we’ll leave claw marks on the edge
to remind them
we were here.

I’ve met the night a hundred times—
She carries no remorse,
Her silver hand upon my chest
A silent, steady force.

Her breath is like a frozen hymn,
Too soft for earth to hear—
Yet chills my soul, and bends my will
Until it disappears.

I sought to end the endless ache
With shadows on the wall,
But shadows only shift and shrink,
And answer not my call.

There is no mercy in the stars,
No kindness in the frost—
Yet some persist to claim that light
Redeems what has been lost.

End me, then, O faithful dark—
Unbind this brittle form,
And leave me not to linger here
Through one more bitter storm.

Timing couldn't be any worse
We were living in a makeshift flat
While barely making ends meet
But we always wanted a baby
So we were thrilled anyway

Yet life had other plans
Of loss and unbearable pain
As it does over and over again

Another year rolls
around.
Another step into the world,
out

there it is,
there it stays.

In front of me,
and I think;

What to do, what’s anew?
I could step into the downpour
and let the rain
fall down on me.

But I sit at home
Lay down
and let my mind wander.

What to do, what’s anew?

A million empty promises
I won’t see through.