I lit my candles all alone,
on a night that should have been my own.
The tiny flame flickered and died,
I whispered my wishes, but none replied.

He, as always, lay asleep,
while I stood silent, tired, bleak.
I washed the dishes, cleaned the floor,
he “saved his energy” once more.

I asked, I pleaded, time and again,
but silence met me now as then.
I carried weight that no one should,
believing strength meant all I could.

And him? He sighs, he hides away,
a child in mind, a man in sway.
And me? I cook, I clean, I run,
but who sees me when the day is done?

Loneliness lingers, heavy, cold,
a story quiet, left untold.
But maybe soon, when night appears,
I’ll light a flame for me, not tears.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
To noiseless evenings, torturing by coolness,
To sickening evenings with their twinkle stars,
Which harshly tear my soul by stuffy stillness.

I'm getting used to being alone again,
Alone with Chopin in all the evenings long.
I fall upon my pillow and shut off,
And in the morning my alarm's 'ding-****'

Well now, hello, my dear, and come in.
Where've you got lost, my sweet and precious friend?
We'll wade through whole life with you, my loneliness,
From this time forth up even to the end.

you wish you were invisible sometimes
to hide the scars and bruises on your neck,
'cause once you have been seen you can't go back
to being just a gap between the lines
of someone else's story,
of someone else's life.
now your disguise is too thin to protect,
now you've been noticed, captured by a net that keeps you still.
you wonder when they're going for the ****,
you're counting moments,
but they keep on slipping through the wires,
you wish you were invisible sometimes.

Obscurity is a quiet violence—  
not sudden, not sharp.  
It seeps.  
Tilts the world by degrees  
until struggle feels like balance.  
You stop reaching for air.  
You start pacing the silence,  
memorizing its corners,  
finding comfort in its ache.  
It does not shout;  
it hums—  
soft, constant,  
like a thought you can’t unlatch from.  
And in the famine of recognition,  
you stop needing to be seen.  
You fold yourself into the absence.  
You name the ache familiar.  
You name the silence sacred.  
You call it love.

A stranger knocks at my door-
I opened it and saw,
Loneliness standing in front of me,
Saying, “Hello, old friend."

Hear the steps?
Past the curfew - two feet, counting stairs,
of a drunk man, who's stiffness is eerie.
It's the sound of me climbing up to my place
where there's no one to be doing the hearing.

Hear the jingle?
It's the finger in search of a key,
of a man who's had not enough spirit.
Would my loneliness also abandon me,
if I managed to fall in love with it?

There are so many people in this world,
But my life is solitary.
It feels like a vacuum to truly exist in this world.
I just want to go somewhere where there is peace.

To live here is just a useless desire.
The people, they're not home,
They never can be.
But I dwell here, surrounded by everything that's mine, yet still doesn't belong to me.

It has become a beautiful mess,
Where I drown in the depth of the ocean.
There is so much air I'm surrounded by,
Yet I still feel suffocated.
It gets hard every time I breathe.

I just wish to disappear from here and live in the world of mine,
Which is a lot better than this cursed world where I exist.

This...
The shaking of a reed
The movement of the water
The flickering of a flame.

This...
The crying of a child
The weariness of the labourer
The burning skin from the sun.

This...
The salty tears of guilt
The racking pain of loneliness
The swan song of past glories.

This...
The masks of complacency
The contracts of acceptance
The closing of the mind.

This...
The continuing saga
The words that fill the pages
The lot in life we all share.

I came across a picture today,
a moment frozen, bright and full of life.
She was smiling—so effortlessly,
like the past never weighed her down.

She found her way, I see it now,
embracing all the things she left behind.
The hobbies she once set aside,
the laughter she forgot how to share—
they are hers again, and they shine.

But where does that leave me?
The one left behind, standing still,
watching from a distance,
realizing that I have nothing,
not even a place to start.

She rediscovered herself,
while I am still sifting through ruins,
searching for pieces of me
that I never thought I’d have to rebuild.

I was always a part of something,
tied to a life that no longer exists.
Now, I face the question I never dared ask:
Who am I, when I am only me?

The world moves forward, time doesn’t wait,
and I know I must start again.
But every step feels heavier,
every day feels longer,
and the path ahead is one I have to carve alone.

Maybe one day, I’ll understand.
Maybe one day, I’ll smile like that too.
But for now, I am just trying—
trying to begin from nothing.