waking up in a haze,
wondering what day it is.

nights blurring into the next,
trying to pull myself together.

lost, confused, wondering:
what the hell is wrong with me?

is this just a phase?
is this post-traumatic response
or recovery?

because everything seems
to go too fast, or
way too slow,

and i think
i'm gonna breakdown.

stupid toxic tendencies,
i keep trying every day,
and it's oh-so exhausting.

imagine an enemy,
only you can see—

man vs. self,
back to the basics
of healing and discovery.

fighting the bad thoughts,
just to get another day.

so tired and over it,
i gotta claw my way out,

or i'll never truly be set free.

They called you kind, a gentle soul,
Soft as petals, sweet and whole.
You bore the weight of every storm,
A refuge where the ruthless swarm.

You folded yourself in careful lines,
Shrank to fit their grand designs.
Smiled through wounds they couldn't see,
Convinced that love meant loyalty.

But kindness should not taste like chains,
Nor drown beneath another's pains.
To give is grace, but not to lose,
The voice, the light, the right to choose.

Why must your comfort come last in line?
Why must you dim so they may shine?
A heart so vast, yet bound so tight,
A sky eclipsed to spare the night.

No more. No more the whispered "yes,"
That bends your spine in self-duress.
No more apologies for thin air,
For taking space, for standing there.

To choose yourself is not unkind,
Not cruel, not selfish, just aligned.
Boundaries drawn with steady hands,
Are sacred vows, not harsh demands.

And those who love you, who truly see,
Will bless your rise, will set you free.
The rest will fall, like autumn leaves,
Carried off on silent eves.

So stand, unshaken, bold and true,
Unbowed by guilt they place on you.
For peace is not in being small,
It's daring, fully, to be your all.

One day they told me I couldn’t,
that writing wasn’t for me,
that poetry was something strange.

I listened to that soul,
that noble soul,
because I admired them
more than my younger self.

Today, I write with feeling,
with my heart in my hand,
seeking answers.

I do it to heal you,
so I can heal myself.

I criticize society,
stereotypes,
and structures that define us.

Poetry came that afternoon
when I described the sweet face
of that young girl.

Poetry came
when that relationship ended.
After giving everything
and having nothing left,
I said, “I just wanted you to love me.”

I would tell you I write poetry,
but they are spells
for the soul.

They impose fears on us
that are not our own.

Where you see darkness,
where you see shadows,
that is where you must go,
and there you will find yourself.

Be strong,
keep going,
not everyone wants to see you shine.

You are great,
you are immense.

Release your light,
illuminate yourself, and illuminate the world.

History has always had your back.
Society will always stab you in it.
Let heads roll low on the ground,
While you hold your head high.
Might doesn’t ever make right.
The strongest among us are always
those with naught but compassion
and kindness growing in their hearts.
Weeds, they will always grow back.
Society will tell you that there is no
difference between strength and will.
History tells us that will is stronger.

You handed over the pieces
of your life without hesitation
your breath, your time,
your love,
because that’s what you thought love was.
Not once did you think to keep
anything for yourself.
You reached in and revealed
these pieces of yourself over time,
wrapping them in your skin,
your time, your love.

I didn’t need all the pieces
that you gave me
those you gave because you thought it was love.
I won’t let you do it.
I cannot.
Regardless of how much you give,
if I am hungry, I will not take
without replenishing what is given.
If I am thirsty, I will not bathe
in what is excess.

I, too, will hand over the pieces
of my life,
because, as hard as it is to accept,
the truth is we do not truly own anything.
just enough to feel the space
where the years seem to fly by.
Something that connects us both.
You handed over the pieces
of your life,
and I promise to care for and love them,
because I believe it’s something you just do.
Just as I believe in welcoming you
to live and breathe in the pieces of my life.
I too will live, breathe, and drown
in you