My heart is bruised by the weight of hope,
Bleeding from the jabs of disappointment.
Scarred from trusting too much,
Yet still reaching, still yearning.
I gave too many people a chance,
Though my heart could only take a little.
But my kindness was just a whisper to them,
A fleeting moment, forgotten too soon.
Why do people hurt me?
Why do they not care?
I showed them love,
Yet they left me empty.

I would describe this feeling as pain,
but it doesn’t quite hurt like being burned.
And it doesn’t feel like being completely incinerated either.
No, it’s a dull ache. A deep feeling of loss.
Even my body doesn’t know how to process it.
Not that my body knows how to process most things.
My stomach is bad at digesting dairy and anger .
My ears don’t interpret conversations very well,
And my tongue can’t stand spice.
Spice burns. A pain I can identify, but can’t tolerate.
Heartbreak aches like a black hole. Cold. Empty.
What was once a burning star has been changed,
Rendered into an all-consuming, lifeless nothing.

What is love now, since

you're gone and I am dying --


in how it was then?

I think I cut too deep
Look at that cut on me
It hasn’t healed for fourteen days
It won’t never go away
Maybe they’ll finally notice
How I’m far past my lowest
Look into the open wound
Staring back with eyes of stound
Watch it drip honey
And gush out sounds of
A time when I was funny
And not the time now where I am but a dove

what do we mean when we say "I miss how things used to be"?
is it a question you'd like to answer yourself
or let float in the air of uncertainty we all live in?

is it a specific period of time we miss or the people in it?
or are we just grieving long-lost opportunities?
from love to occupation, we long for the days of demonstrations.

do we simply miss days when we still had options?
when the doors were wide open and the ground more solid?
when we were giants and moved without caution
when we didn't mourn the feelings we buried

A grind—bones against gravel,
Flesh pulled thin by rusted teeth.
A wail, swallowed by the wind,
Spat back hollow, broken.

The carousel, once a carnival of hope,
Rots in a barren field.
Its beasts—hulking shadows,
Eyes wide, frozen in fear
Of what never came.

Time loops—endless, merciless—
A cruel ring of blood and ash,
Twisting upon itself,
Never ending, never beginning,
Only echoing empty promises.

The wind howls with ghosts of lost ambition,
Claws dragging across splintered wood,
Brushing rusted metal—
Each touch a whisper
Of what could have been, but never was.

Dreams died here.
No one mourned.
They only rotted,
Sinking into the earth,
Leaving behind echoes
No one dares to hear.

And still, the carousel spins—
Not because it wants to,
But because it's too broken to stop.

Kicked down.
Cold floor. Breath thinner than the air.
Get up.
Hands reach, no grip.
Alone, lost again.
Crying echoes back to silence.
Floods of tears—
no ark, no warmth, just noise.

Thrown down.
Fallen,
too many times.
Get up, try again.
But the hands,
they never pull me up.
Just flickers of light—
brief, empty.
Alone. Lost.
I shout, but no one hears.
A flood of tears,
they turn their backs.
Flee.
Craving warmth,
but it's just cold silence.

Craving safety, security.
A place to breathe.
But the love that’s offered,
it’s conditional.
Harsh words.
Poking, pain,
no softness.
Empty arms,
no warmth.
Alone again,
lost in the night.
I’m down here,
on the cold floor.
Don’t leave me here—
please.
Not again.
Afraid.
Empty.

A burden.
A disappointment.
That’s all I am.
A ghost, never seen,
only felt.
I love, yet all I get is hate.
Thrown back at me,
cold, sharp.
No warmth for the lost,
just more silence.
Another night on the floor,
cold,
alone.

The darkness is heavy.
I can’t rise.
Maybe this is where I belong,
buried beneath the weight.
The coldness, the grime.
No line thrown.
Alone, I sink deeper.
This feels like home—
empty, silent,
a place no one calls their own.
Another night,
heart breaking,
again.

I’m sorry.
For whatever I’ve done,
to push you away.
I can't believe it turned out like this.
Is this the end?
Another night,
more tears,
more silence.
I only wanted a place,
to belong,
to feel seen.
But I guess that’s too much to ask.