Ghosts are real.
Haunted by something long gone,
Dead, I haunt myself.
Ghosts, they float in my room,
Bouncing off the walls,
Surrounding me with what once was.

Eight years old,
I stand in the corner, crying,
It echoes in my head—
Haunted by my past.

Ghosts are real.
They don’t break glasses or close doors,
They evoke fear much greater than an unexplainable incident.
They haunt you with a cruel reality—
Something far worse than floating books.
The truth.
I am haunted. By the truth.

To find yourself,
You must fall into yourself.
For others, a hard landing is due,
But what you'll find is nothing new.

I fall down, an endless pit,
A spiral deep, where shadows sit.

In the glow of screens,
we gathered,
Farmville requests from aunts,
a world of laughter,
simple joys shared like sunlight,
photos blooming like flowers,
each snapshot a moment held close.
But shadows crept in,
voices grew louder,
arguments ignited in the digital crowd,
once a haven for stories and cheer,
now a battleground,
where fear and anger drown out connection.
Oh, to step back,
to mute the noise,
to cherish the small moments,
to find joy in simplicity.
Can we learn to listen?
To hold our space with care?
To share our truths without fear of judgment?
Imagine a world where we pause,
where empathy reigns and understanding flows.
Let’s reclaim the joy of a simple post,
the warmth of shared memories,
the bonds that matter most.
If we could remember how to talk again—
to share our lives without the weight of expectation,
to celebrate each other’s stories as our own.
Maybe then we can find our way back,
to laughter and support,
to kindness woven through our words.
And maybe one day,
we will step into that light again—
not as warriors in an endless fight,
but as friends seeking connection,
hearts open to the beauty of being together.

I am confident because I am a woman,
Not a reflection of someone else’s desires,
Not an object to be shaped by their whims,
But a vibrant force, grounded and inspired.
They think they own my beauty,
As if it’s theirs to claim and consume.
But I’m the storm that shakes their ground,
A force of nature, bold and unbound.
Each scar I bear tells of my fight,
A testament to strength and might.
I rise like fire, daring and bold,
Defying limits they’ve tried to mold.
I honor the woman in my own mirror,
Her spirit unbroken, her vision clear.
If my independence stirs their unease,
Let my truth rise like a tempest, swift as the breeze.
I refuse to fit into their narrow confines,
Living authentically, where my spirit shines.
As free as the winds that weave through the trees,
With aspirations that soar beyond their pleas.
When their illusions begin to crumble and fall,
They lash out like shadows, but I stand tall.
Their approval was never my measure of worth;
I’ll reflect on this journey with pride and mirth.
Finding strength in each “no” that I dared to speak,
In every chain I shattered, in every dream I seek.
My path is my own, uniquely defined;
I am here—embracing the fire in my mind.
With courage as my compass and hope as my guide,
I’ll honor my story, with nothing to hide.

I did not fall in love with you—

I walked,

Eyes wide open,

Mesmerized by every step,

Drawn into mirrored reflections,

A path unfolding like light.

Moving forward,

Sure-footed and steady,

Choosing each step

Along the way.

I'm jealous
but not in a way
I'll yell at you and say
things I don't mean
just because you didn't look at me

I'm jealous
but in a way
that eats my insides
makes my mind run for miles
"is it my fault he's not mine?"