Everyone has  bad days.
Sometimes, the day turns vicious,
Making one feel
Like hiding from the world  a bit .


Sometimes, we shed tears,
Condemn the day,
But it's like a storm:
Intense, alarming,
Yet always with an end.

Once, I gave up.
Once, I quit.
I looked in the mirror,
But I couldn't recognize the figure staring back at me—
A failure, a quitter.

My head swelled with thoughts,
Guilt draped my neck like a heavy chain.
My chest tightened, each breath a battle.
My eyes wandered in the silence,
The throbbing of my heart loud enough to be heard across town.

Silent rivers flowed freely, wetting my cheeks.
I turned to the mirror again—
Its cracks mirrored the ones in me.
This time, I was broken, shattered, lost.
I just want to be me.
I want to give my best, but my best has never been enough.

Feelings of low self-esteem creep in.
Guilt shimmers in every word I speak.
Regret follows my every action.
I am frightened of myself—
I have become my worst enemy.

"Help me help us," I whispered, torn—
"You and I, the past and the future—
We can't keep breaking apart."


The silence lingered.
Then, something stirred within me.
A flicker, small but steady.
The mirror didn’t just reflect my pain—
It showed a fighter, bruised but breathing.

I wiped my tears.
I stood a little taller.
Maybe I had lost myself before,
But I could still find her again.

I am not just my failures.
I am not just my regrets.
I am the fire that refuses to go out.
And this time, I won’t quit.

                          Hephzy [D.I.C]

A rainbow appeared
as an Epitome of grace
Like the Holy grail

People laugh when one says
—I am afraid of the death.
What they don’t get is,
they should be afraid if one day
one said —I am not afraid to be dead.
I for one, not afraid to be afraid
for I afraid I won’t be afraid of the loss of me.

I wonder
if faith is only
the courage
to be wrong.

to circle a light
that burns,
and still believe
it was meant for you.

to stay
long after the silence,
because leaving
feels like losing.

I wonder
if all I’ve ever had
is faith,
and the bruises
it left behind.

I think love is wonderful.
When I imagine it, I see fingers intertwined.
Cuddles on the couch.
I see two people opening themselves up fully to one another—
and not running away from what they find.

My version of love is everything that should be...
not what I, as a little girl, have seen.
My version of love holds no place for control.
No room for lies dripping in sugar.
In my version of love, you hold each other up.
You make each other better,
and everything feels lighter when you're together.

Because, hey—
nothing says "I don't love you" like screaming words behind closed doors.
Like the emptiness of countless sorries.
Like trying not to set a person off
who is supposed to be your "significant other."

My love is... confusion.

I don't know if I can catch feelings.
My butterfly-catching net is frayed and torn,
so they just keep flying away.
It seems so easy and natural for them...
I just wish I knew for sure.

Could love ever be in the air?
Or is friendship truly where the line ends?

I've been so focused on self-love and self-growth
that I've not been able to see beyond me.
When I try,
there is only emptiness—
and more questions.

What I want to know is this:
Why can't me, myself and I be enough?
Why does everyone I meet
see me as incomplete
without a man or woman on my arm?

I know I love my things,
my music and my art.
Tisane, quiet contemplation,
and poetry.

Maybe the loves I've seen
have left my heart scattered.
Maybe The One is still out there...
but maybe they just aren't.

Kissing is weird.
*** is weird.
It's almost always the last thing on my mind—
it's just not something that I crave.

Let alone trying to get someone
to like me enough
to even want to do those things with me—
seems like so much EFFORT.

...is being alone really so bad?

Maybe I'm not built for romance,
but GODS does it seem wonderful...
I just don't know if that kind of love is for me.

The woman and the girl
are one in the same

She finds joy in wall rainbows,
And loves the rain

She makes crockery
Imprinted with dinosaurs,
She likes shopping at thrift stores
For clothing that screams whimsy -

Beaded necklaces,
dark velvet
And cute embroidery

Videogames
With quests primeval,
And moral threads
That aren’t so medieval

They whisper,
“There’s more to the journey
than simply good vs evil.”

                        
                                              The void still exists -
                                                  That gaping abyss

                                                           Cold as glass,
                                                         But weightless

                                              It does not pull now
                           She can stare all she likes now
                              It's all but a fascinating sight

                                              There is no question
                                                     Whether to stay,
                                                                     Or to go

                        Eleven was such a long time ago

Flip flip
Sigh
Flip rustle
Smile                     Smile but trip
               And so goes the cycle
Stitch stitch           Heart thumping with crippling fear
         Stitch too your rotting wounds
Stitch keep on stitching    Fingers shaking
Go on                    Heart filling with thrill  Stitch come on     Fingers with their minds
                         Healer
                         Healed?

I yearn for spring
so to spring I cling
but now fall has arrived
and I’ve been deprived
of the hot summer sun
by constantly trying to run
back to when everything was fine
back to when my reflection was mine
by being stuck in what once was
I made happiness a lost cause