Broken spirit
Its venom leaks out
Every word is a storm
Every silence is cold
In the end
Not every day is scheduled to be the same
Our hearts are just puppets in a cruel game of emotions
Maybe it's just a lost love
Gentle dirt sent from above
But the wound was as deep as a flying bullet
To see blood—some people enjoy it
But patience remains my quiet guide
Let the world tempt you, let suffering remain
I will wear defeat
My wounds are like a crown
Loss of the power that won't give up

How would I know I’m not a heavy-weight,
A burden those I love could start to hate?
Each word I speak feels like a sharpened stone,
Thrown into hearts that ache, yet not my own.

How can I be sure their light stays intact,
Unstained by shadows that my soul attracts?
What if my truths are daggers they can’t bear,
And I leave scars in places unaware?

How would I know their kindness doesn’t fade,
Eroded by the cost of love they’ve paid?
What if my pain becomes the thing they fear,
A haunting voice that whispers when I’m near?

How can I trust they’d hold their steady ground,
When I pull them to where I can’t be found?
What if my sorrow seeps into their core,
And they’re not who they were, not anymore?

What if I speak, and silence fills the air,
A proof their patience vanished unaware?
Do they resent the weight my words impose,
Or wish I’d keep my sadness undisclosed?

How would I know they won’t begin to flee,
Escaping from the heaviness of me?
What if their love gives out beneath the strain,
And all I’ve left are echoes of my pain?

I’m torn between the need to reach and hide,
Unsure if they can stand what’s locked inside.
Am I a poison slowly spreading through,
Or just a soul too lost to find the truth?

That’s why I think it’s better left this way,
Alone with all the words I’ll never say.
To die with silence wrapped around my chest,
And free them from the weight of my unrest.

If a bad, unsettling thing is taking place,  
Making me humiliating in my inner space,  
At some boiling, anxious pace.  
Holding tightly, proving biased case,  
Losing the sight of self-knowing’s sole grace.  
I’m just consolidating my inner defined haze,  
To make things appear true in my defined chase,  
To claim my augury true at every place.  
Handling, exploiting inner flowing, mazy pace,  
Imagining to feel hard the defined charm to chase.  
Knowing this decision of self-harass,  
But this is so smothering, exhausting case for himself.  
Where the world is just the consolidating of inner defined haze,  
Blaming world and stuff to be constructing mess.  
My face, my fears, guilty gears and all phrase  
Are working only to fulfill imagined embrace.  
Even this is something been given to me by some random accidental bass,  
Originating from some muddy collision on rough surface.  
This blaze has, if you see, innumerable face,  
None of which has their own eyes but handed gaze.  
While there are either none or all sovereign hands,  
Just like cloudy shapes, random patterns intermingled colors have forms in void names.

I'm fine"
The response,
a sconce.

People echo this to escape the outcry.
The cry they hold on to tightly behind that damaged brick wall
they use to stall.

Only the holder knows the deceive,
while people around them believe.

I'm not fine; I’m hanging by a thread, so thin,
With the weight of the world pressing down from within.
This fragile line frays, I can feel it unwind,
While tangled webs clutter the depths of my mind.

Empty yet twisted, so fragile, so tight,
In a space that feels hollow, with barely a light.

"Will I ever break free? Will I make it alive?"
These questions keep echoing, trapped in my mind.
Instead of a rise, I'm caught in a dive,
Descending a staircase, steep and unkind.
"Am I fine?"

All adults were once children
There are no exceptions
And that's what's truly heartbreaking
Villians are made, not born
At least not always

Every angsty drug dealer
Every teacher
Every depressed poet
Every grave

When you see a homeless person
Do you ever wonder what their life has been before?
They were just a child
With hope
Hope which died along with their innocence

Through pain and hardship, strength is grown,
Where courage blooms from seeds unknown.
It’s easy to forget the fight,
That forged their hearts within the night.

The strongest souls bear hidden scars,
Their battles waged in silent wars.
Yet walls are built, and hearts made true,
With every storm they battled through.

Now confidence, like stone, remains,
A quiet fire, fed by pains.
From broken ground, they rise and stand—
The toughest hearts, the gentlest hands.

I long to be silent in silence,
so that a magnolia tree may bloom in my mind,
warmed by the hands of God.

Today I met my biggest fear
My younger self,
Her sparkling eyes in despair
Asked me if we have reached there.
I, ashamed of myself didn’t looked into her eyes.
I stared hard at the ground, hoping it would open and make me sink inside.

She didn’t said anything for a moment then cried out loud.
Her cry pierced the air,
Raw and broken as if all her hopes disappeared
“I knew this would happen, I knew we would loose again,
All is my fault, I shouldn’t have dream that in the first place.”
Her voice sent a shiver down my spine, I trembled down to my core,
I looked up at her and noticed how desperately she wanted to restore.
I knew we had progressed, but right now only the outcome mattered,
We had failed once again and it seemed all our dreams got shattered.
She didn’t said a word after that and left quietly.
I was left again alone, lonely.
I stood their for some time
and then went back to study.