Anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, let's talk about anxiety:

The laughter felt hollow. "Just kidding!" they'd say,
But the jokes they would tell held a sting in their play.
Offensive and cruel, a twisted, mean rule,
"We're not racist, we swear! We've a friend from your school!"
But I was that token, the one they would name,
While behind all the laughter, I felt only shame.
A knife in my back, a malicious sharp crack,
A constant reminder of all that I lack.

One day, I strolled in, a grin on my face,
Reception was cheerful, a welcoming space.
Friends gathered quickly, all happy and loud,
We played soccer together, praised high in the crowd.
“Just kidding!” they laughed, as they tossed me the ball,
But even then, a small shadow began to enthrall.

The next day arrived, and their smiles felt so thin,
Sweet words they would offer, but something felt grim.
“Are you okay?” they would ask, with a glint in their eyes,
But behind all the kindness, I sensed a disguise.
A clinical comfort, wrapped tight in my fears,
The laughter felt forced, after all the past years.

So, I started to distance myself from the crew,
But their antics just worsened, a horrible debut.
Pretending to whip, with their laughter so loud,
Making statements unworthy, they thrived in the crowd.
Avoiding their taunts felt like such a lost game,
But their mockery lingered, igniting the flame.

Now, when I walk on, I feel eyes on my spine,
A scrutiny’s grip, like I’m trapped in a line.
Each shadow behind me, a judge with a scale,
And I’m just the subject in this haunting tale.
The world feels so heavy, their power’s a curse,
I’m lost in the chaos—am I doomed to rehearse?

As cast into light,
a shadow appears–
a quiet figure, stitched our heels,
moving as we move,
never speaking,
never sleeping.

It doesn’t beg to be seen–
yet it is always there.

It holds what we bury–
fear, denial, and grief;
the voices of fallacy,
the weight of dreams deferred.
In its void,
It collects the pieces
of what we choose to ignore.
The past echoes there.
The burden breathes there.
The purpose waits there.
Still.
Watching.
Black, like every other.

Peace, legacy, desire, love,
life, time, power, freedom–
the purpose we carry,
even in the dark.

Some move through life unaware of its presence.
At times, the shadow devours us as it follows,
becoming the void itself,
the same void we long to escape.

Like the birds that flow within the sky.
Like the wind that goes where it must.
Like art that forgets its maker.
Like the planets, moving by their own will.
Like a name, whispered into time itself.
Like any form it follows, stone, trees, dust.

It does not leave us,
It becomes whole.

i wanted horns, i wanted a tail,
i never wanted wings
because i grew roots first

I came from silence, storms inside,
Where shadows spoke and tears would hide.
A boy made iron, flame, and thread,
I stitched my soul where others bled.

I asked the void, “Who am I now?”
No echo came—I made the vow:
To shape my mind, to sharpen steel,
To climb with scars and learn to feel.

I do not beg the stars to shine,
I build my path. The light is mine.
With every fall, I stand and grin—
Each bruise, a door I kick within.

They said, “You’re too much fire, too loud.”
But gold is never meant for crowds.
I chose the pain, the edge, the weight—
For that is where I forge my fate.

I am the man who breaks the wall,
Who walks through loss and loves the fall.
Let life strike hard—I strike it back
With vision fierce and heart intact.

I want the things they say can’t be—
The dreams too vast for eyes to see.
Not just for me, but those I love,
To lift them high, to rise above.

But I will rest, and breathe, and laugh,
And dance on broken aftermath.
For peace is part of power’s flame,
And joy is not a softer game.

I need no crown to know I won—
For I am whole when day is done.
The mirror holds my only prize:
A soul of gold, with fire in eyes.

And when I lose, I lose like kings—
Preparing for far greater things.
My failure’s just my victory’s lap,
A thunderclap before the snap.

And when I win, I build anew,
For others’ hands to climb it too.
Not envy, not control, nor pride—
But love, the storm I hold inside.

So mark these words and hold them tight:
I live for truth, I burn for light.
My name won’t fade, it multiplies—
For I am gold.

Golden, I rise.

This user is loosing interest in everything
like tabs left open, forgotten, buffering.
Notifications blink like dying stars,
but none are worth the effort of looking.

Conversations feel like code
written in languages I unlearned.
but mean none of them.

Even the mirror loads too slowly,
and when it does,
the face looks like someone
mid-update,
stuck.

The days autoplay.
The nights glitch.
And somewhere in the background,
I hear the soft hum
of systems shutting down.

I don’t think I could ever like my face,
not even on its best day.
It’s the only hall in my life
where you never lost your place.

"Great!" They said.

"So I'll be you, and you be me?"

"Correct!"

"And you'll be them, and they'll be you?"

"Accurate!"

And so they all swapped their devices,
All took each other's names/profiles,
Saying nothing of what they were actually doing!

"So who will I even be talking to?"

"Don't worry, you'll know it!"

"But how will I understand it as them?"

"Wouldn't you know if you didn't?"

Everyone wants to be cool
But I’m a collection of verbs
Never stood tall in nouns
No, I am not static
I am what I do  
and what I won’t do

I don’t repeat
By leaving
I repeat
By returning
Kassandra has been talking
I never heed her warning
Hope for the thief
Is the verb that I am
Hope for the liar
Is the verb that I am
Hope for the cruel
Is the verb that I am

Kassandra is talking
And this time I hear her
Forgiveness isn’t a one time deal
I choose it
And chose it again
But staying gone
Is the verb that I am