He never left a single note.
Just rings on wood, the scent of smoke.
A door unlocked a room left bare.
A ghost still sunken in the chair.

The bottle stood, its duty done.
A quiet war that no one won.
No cries for help, no last refrain.
Just heavy air and dried-up pain.

The world still turned the clocks still kept,
No one knew how hard he wept.
And when they asked they swore he laughed
Yet all he left was hollowed glass.

A bird trapped in a cage cannot fly

I am a bird trapped in a cage
But oh how I yearn to soar

If that bird is set free
It will soar and fly
It will come back.

I was a bird trapped in a cage
Oh how I yearned to be free

When I was set free
I soared and flew
And I came back
Because I was given freedom

It feels like you’re too close to me.
You push everyone else away from me.
They try to move closer,
But you shove yourself between them and I.
Cramped into the space of one person,
We push against each other constantly.
You push me down, smaller. I push back.
Tightly confined, I’m trapped with you, by you.

Silhouettes of lovers as they dance throughout the night
Iridescent colors on a flower soon to die
Faceless images that lash out in the final scene
Horrified to realize this isn't a mere dream
Will you search with me for means of unity
In a world that doesn't care

Time is an eternity, a star filled galaxy
That leads nowhere
Life is like and endless road, a fateful tragedy
We seldom share

Picture perfect memories that are dusted off the shelf
A rose that wilts through endless nights seeks light to nurture health
Whispered voices echo from within a silent rage
Images that mirror all the changes to be made
Will you search with me for trust and honesty
In a world that doesn't care

Time is an eternity, a star filled galaxy
That leads nowhere
Life is like and endless road, a fateful tragedy
We seldom share

Kaleidoscopic tapestries
Reflecting posibilities
Sculpting out in magesty
A love that can endure

Time is an eternity, a star filled galaxy
That leads nowhere
Life is like and endless road, a fateful tragedy
We seldom share

Kind, Kind, Kind.
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but yourself.

Stuck in a passageway, never in a room,
Never with someone who can understand you.
A glimpse of light, of you being truthful,
And then the door closes, you’re left behind again.

Do you know them?
Do they know you?
Would they bother, would they care?
If they really knew who you were?

Your voice is an echo, there’s no sound,
Nothing of yours, are these even your thoughts?
Trying is hard, fearing what you are,
They’ll know one day, they’ll be told by the scars.

You’re kind aren’t you?
Kind, kind, kind.
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but the ones who matter.

You have nothing, you are nothing.
Empty eyes, empty heard.
What good is your love,
When you can’t even love.

You are so wise aren’t you?
Your words are never wrong,
You know the world and they don’t,
Isn’t that your whole thing, isn’t that who you are?

Stuck in a passageway, never in a room,
You only fit in, when you’re mute,
It’s okay, It’s fine.
You’ll try when the time’s right.

What regrets, what meanings?
Aren’t you just deceiving yourself with what’s not true?
I hope the dead cannot see the world,
I hope she cannot see what you’ve become.

You can’t bother trying,
So why want it at all?
What point are you trying to make?
Too afraid, too tired?
You didn’t even try.

Kind, kind, kind
Kind to the people,
Kind to the world,
Kind to anyone but the one who knows you.

Surrounded by everyone, yet I remain unseen,
Heard by no one, invisible.
Amid the din of laughter, my words dissolve,
Unacknowledged, stripped of dignity.
Each silence carves away my sense of worth.

You can talk, yell, scream into the void,
But no one lifts a finger to help you.
You yell into valleys and plains—silence echoes back.
  
Part of a group, a long-sought pack,
Yet every effort feels like a mountain to climb.
I hear the sneers of those who should be close,
Not friends—just echoes of mockery,
Or the relentless chatter that drowns me out.
  
Nothing else, just the pain of being unseen.
  
The quiet swells and I fade, can they even see me?
If they don't see me, how can they care?
In this ever-growing silence, can I sustain myself?


Everyone seems amazing. Are they?
They wear smiles like masks—
Bright and polished, yet brittle beneath.
Perhaps beneath, a tide of hatred flows.
Do they hide it, or are you simply blind?  

Their perfection casts my flaws in sharper relief.
In this cold reality, a truth unfolds—
You will never succeed, your dreams a distant mirage.
The silence shapes you into something terrible,
A reflection you barely recognize.  

And yet?


Their silence shapes me into what I fear most
A shadow of my dream, do I even exist if I remain unseen?


I have never sought to end my life—
Such actions feel beneath me.
But pride alone cannot drown this silence.
Am I less? Am I saner than those who do?
My quiet misery matters to me.

Alive, yet unseen—does my life matter
If no one knows me?
I shine brightly, yet I am engulfed in shadows.
Am I really alive if only I can know me?

My mental health is perfect.
I am the happiest among them.
Am I? Can happiness survive in this silence?
Have I truly ever been happy?

I deserve understanding, yet it slips away—
No validation, no dignity.
Am I destined for loneliness forever?
Have I invited this loneliness again?  

From nothing to new nothing,
Have I truly escaped the hell I knew?


Alongside the pain, pride swells
A deadly war for my broken soul


You tell yourself you’re a wonderful person,  
but you don’t believe it.
You claim to be helpful, kind, cheerful.
You vowed to yourself that you would be—
A beacon for others yet lost in your own shadow.

You stumble under the weight of your own needs.
Every effort to be virtuous feels futile,
Not enough to save your soul.
A mirror reveals cracks you refuse to mend.
Shame coils around you, a shadow you cannot escape.


Even in the eternal night of my broken self, hope flickers
A struggling spark, lost in the dark expanse


Despite the darkness something burns
A dream that you long to watch grow
A dream that you long to nurture and care for
But through the broken glass, my vision distorts
Fragile unrecognizable unable to see its beauty

Shards shatter jagged and sharp
Unnoticed, unwhole, unseen
Is my suffering deserved?
Have I caused my pain?


Self loathing cannot mask the pride that swells
Their eternal war is still not louder than the dreadful silence


I know I am destined for more than dirt or ****,
Yet all I see are my shortcomings.
The silence shapes me into what I fear most
A shadow of the person I long to become.
I am nothing, noise in the background.
Were you meant to be important?
  
Actions speak louder than words, yet I stand still,
My voice lost in the roar of those who hate me—
Or worse, those who never even see me.

I am doomed to live in my quiet suffering
shattered and unseen, drowning in the suffocating silence

Something I never had, freedom
Friends that had my back, leave them
Tears fill my eyebags, useless feeling
                                                         ­                                                    Weak
Pathetic you say,
                                     Your daughter, laugh as you may.

I like a guy, unwanted attention
Time passes by, haunted by tension
Ask for reasons why, say its affection
                                                       ­                                                      Narcissistic
Selfish I’m told,
                                    I’m seventeen, a sheep with no wool.

A comfort pillow, slowly turning hot
The wilting willow, vines tight as knots
Choking below, self made blood clots
                                                           ­                                                  Ignorant

Egocentric you declare,
                                                      Li­fe just started, and life’s not fair.

Blood’s spilling, considered infraction
Heart chilling, fading reaction
Head drilling, thoughts in redaction
                                                       ­                                                      Failure
I’m to blame,
                              Your knife in my hand, inching closer to my vein.

-Naiomi Crowell