Baseless turmoil I have carried
       for you was faithless.
Aged me fine in my youth
       groundless.
No longer I was more sure
      about the lore.
No doubt it was offshore,
     I have to build my own floor.

Look at the pond
You & I
Paddling together
Beneath the sky.
Within the ripples ~~
With a watery sigh
Let go of the burden
Let it lie.

My shoulders are burdened
by the weight of all the lives I'm living.
My head hurts because my neck
supports all the people I’ve become.
Laden with hats, my hair hides
underneath the tokens of every job I do.
Deep within, I still fear that this is not enough.
Will it ever be enough?

A reign of the sky,
Ink-stained feathers—
Scavenger of the lost,
Willing to die.

Blends with the ******,
Identical to all.
Unfurls, beats harder—
The crow begins to fall.

A shadow chasing light,
His nest embraced another—
Not beneath the ink-ish night,
But one that rose from dead anther.

Yet the curse of a crow,
Bearer of omens, fell again.
This time, he couldn't throw—
The wound cut deeper,
The pain remained.

His lullaby, abuse—
His voice, a crash.
Cries rang through the void,
Silencing the bones, thrashed.

Bitterness crept in
And left its stain
plush white carpet
Perfect no more

More or less
Passing the time
And failing to commit
Yet another crime

Lest boast the mind
Accepting fate
Burden to carry
Choosing not to set it down

The strongest people are often the quietest,
Their shoulders broad enough to bear the weight of the world.
They listen when others crumble,
Piecing together broken hearts with steady hands.
Their words soothe,
Their presence steadies,
And their silence feels like a refuge.

But when their own walls begin to crack,
When the weight they carry grows too heavy,
Their voices falter.
Soft cries for help,
Eclipsed by the noise of lives they once held together.
Their pain fades into the background,
A whisper swallowed by the chaos of others.

They are seen as unshakable,
An unyielding constant in a storm.
But even the tallest trees sway,
Even the strongest pillars crack under strain.

Still, they stand,
Hoping someone will notice the way they lean,
Hoping someone will hear the faint echoes of their ache.
But most days,
Their own needs dissolve into the shadows,
Invisible in the light they give to others.

And in the stillness of their loneliness,
They wonder if anyone will ever listen
The way they have listened all along.

I thought I could outrun the weight,
but the burden was never mine—
like a passenger begging for control,
but only the crash was waiting,
and I didn't even scream.