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Why do you cry?
Because I’m so sick of not being okay.

So sick of my loss of appetite.
My constant need for pain.
Why can’t I be happy?
Wholly and unconditionally. Must there always be a load, weighing me down?
Where’s the balloon?
That I can tie to my wrist and let pull me away?
Why must life be so full of death?
So many questions.
So many answers that continue to allude me.
So I look to the sky.
To the stars.
And….
Dream.
Of a day when someone will ask me.

Why do you cry?
And I can answer,
Because I’m finally okay.
Blur the lines until they are bokeh
As color bleeds from your eyes,
But don’t ever wonder why…

The world looks so pallid—
When saturation has drained to nil,
And everything bright has chilled.
Into the blue-black mortification of night
Like a stage light setting a scene
Who is gonna chase you, my queen?
If you scream will it be my name—
As you beg for my blade to the hilt.

Well I got you.

We twist like tethers of the same vine
Filling in our cracks, stitched —
I hope you feel my heart beat chase your breath
Syncopated rhythms, early morning melodies
From avian angels, perched upon the wires.
Bring me back to you like color,
So you can open your eyes and see…

A world so vibrant
Saturated like a prism
As the warm sun beats down its healing
I want to chase you down
Like a shot when I’m down,
Let me feel you course through me
Until I’m numb and dizzied,
You can be my Nancy
We can meet on Elm street
Forever your nightmare
Clawing at your surface
Wanna go deeper…

Need to feel you at the core
Grow something from the middle
Branch out into a new leaf,
Turn the pages of our story book,
Hope you feel the same energy
Because I’m coming to you with everything.

Can we blur the lines like they’re  bokeh?
Tried to tie some different themes in one concept. What do you think?
Dency 15h
When the night feels cold and long,
And you don't feel brave or strong,
Hope is there,a little light,
Like stars that shine through the darkest night.

It hides in flowers,soft and small,
It comes when you have lost it all.
It doesn't shout or make a sound,
Bt helps you stand on shaky ground.

It hums in songs the birds still sing,
And waits inside the quiet spring.
It holds your hand when no one's near,
And softly says,"I'm still right here. "

It dreams of days that lie ahead,
Of smiles to come ,and tears you've shed.
So when you are tired,full of fear,
Just breathe and know hope is still there.
This poem is a reminder that hope, though quiet and gentle,is always with us.
She walks on toes, in silence dressed,

As if her presence is a guest.

Years of echoes, sharp and rough-

Too loud, too soft, not good enough.

Too much, too little-constant doubt,

That made her want to phase right out.



Compliments land like drops on stone,

They touch but never claim her bone.

“You’re strong, your kind, you shine so bright”-

But her own voice dims all that light.

“They don’t know you”, it softly sighs,

“The fear you mask, the truth you hide.”



She second-guesses every sound-

Each word returns, a ghost abound,

Haunting her in nightmare’s hush,

When the world has lost its rush.



Still-she's learning, step by step,

Through every wound she’s ever kept.

To trust the view that others see-

Not brokenness, but bravery.



Not the girl once coldly told

Her worth was something bought or sold,

A maybe, shifting, not quite real-

Just based on how she made them feel.



But the woman who still wakes each day,

Who shows up, even when afraid.

Who loves with scars the world can see,

And dares to think; “I might be me.”



Perhaps her pride does not yet roar,

But hums beneath her, evermore.

A steady thrum, a whispered song,

That tells her she’s been strong all along.



Her pride may not yet roar or rise,

But hums beneath-her quiet prize.

A steady thrum, a whispered song,

That says she’s been strong all along.





She's not quite there-but still she tries,

And wipes the doubt out from her eyes.

And sometimes, in the mirrors gleam,

She catches glimpses of the dream.



The woman others swear is true-

And in that flash, believes it too.
She was born where the walls would tremble and sway,

Where love came in shouting, then drifted away.

Where silence could cut like a whispering blade,

And kindness was rare as the warmth of May.



Her mother drank storms and let them cascade

On young, aching shoulders, alone and afraid.

She never asked thunder to fall from the skies,

But still bore the weight under tear-salted eyes.



She learned that trust is a word carved out in stone-

Left out in the rain, eroded, alone.

She gave hers to hands that vowed to stay,

But they shattered her trust and then walked away.



At thirteen, her world didn’t fully fall down,

But something inside her refused to be found.

She stopped seeking mirrors, stopped seeking sound,

Felt sure that no soul would hear if she drowned.



Bur deep in the dark, she found ink and a page-

A space to release her quietest rage.

She wrote to survive, let sorrow flow,

To dream of a world where kind hands would grow.



word upon word, she built from the pain,

A self, made of fire, of hope, of the rain.

She grew-not just older-but fiercely and right,

A warrior shaped in the absence of light.



Now she’s a mother, a woman, a flame,

Who shields her own from sorrow and shame.

She listens, she holds, she stands strong and true,

Becoming the love, she never once knew.



The past still whispers, but cannot command;

It doesn’t define her, it doesn’t stand.

She writes-not to flee, but to chart the climb,

Each line a reminder: she rose every time.



She tells the girl hidden deep in her mind,

“We made it, we lived, we rose, and we shined.

The monsters are silent-they don’t get the end.

We write the last word, with strength as our pen.”
it’s never easy
to lose someone
close to you.

it’s never easy
to say goodbye.

broken hearts
can mend,
but there’s a
hole inside—

a place
where your love
used to live.

you feel
like a part
of you
is missing.

you search
for light
at the end
of the tunnel,

but tunnel vision
keeps you stuck,
and still
you try
to rise above it.

losing someone
so close
hurts deeper
than words allow.

and you feel
you’ve been
down on your luck
since the start
of may.

it’s never easy,
and there’s no
easy way
to say this—

but i want
you to know:

it’s okay
to grieve.
it’s okay
to hurt.

because getting
over it
is never easy.

it takes
a strong heart
to heal,

and a stronger soul
to rise again—
to start over,
and live.
written in the wake of heartbreak and loss—after losing my mother and being left days before my birthday.

inspired by mayday parade’s “by the way.”

a reminder that healing doesn’t have a timeline, and strength doesn’t mean silence.
this is for anyone who’s grieving, and still trying to live.
Gentle breeze,
Softness that touches ears.
It comes and goes.
It does what shows.
It is mutual.
It brings scents of sweetness,
Or brings clouds of death.
But to tell why,
You may hold your breath.
Do not worry,
It is not what’s due.
Love in patience,
Will always- walk back to you.
The Sky is Clear
And the Birds Chirp Outside
My Shower Water feels extra clean today
My coffee doesn't burn my tongue
There is no traffic on the Way to Work
And
I don't remember the feeling of failure
Whatever happens by the end of the day
Right now, that burning is in the center of my chest
Inflated like a balloon to keep me upright
A Life Jacket for My Heart
And despite the night before
I am alive
In the hush beneath powerlines,
through fractured stones,
no gardener knelt to bless them.
No springtime choir sang.
Still, golden heads rose,
leaning towards the shadowed light,
the kind filtered by clouds
like a half-remembered memory,
or a lullaby hummed to a ghost.
Roots thread through ruin,
tasting rust,
sipping rain
that fell before the world began.
They were never meant to be here.
And yet
yellow ablaze in the rubble.
A flicker. A flare.
The petaled armor of hope
unfurled against battle-smoked skies
as if the world exhaled
and breathed them into being.
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