A half truth is worse than a lie.
They have a tendency to spread, and don’t die.
A forked tongue serves tempting mouthfuls
of sugar coated hate.
From Charlie Kirk to Andrew Tate.
You wanted change. Be careful what you ask for.
Without compound sentences
there’s no thought behind it all.
Telling men what they want to hear–
they’ll make America great again,
with plenty of cash, chicks and beer
for all the guys. Get wise.
If it sounds shocking,
that’s because it’s wrong.
The sun is still in the East at dawn.
Hate is hate, and water is wet.
We haven’t seen the worst of it yet.

You treated me like I was your toy,
I had plans to become your boy,
I thought of what all,
But never imagined this fall.

The fall of our love,
The fall I will serve,
This isn’t what I deserve,
I thought our love could preserve.

Yet we are standing here,
With eyes full of tears,
We could have been peers,
If you had kept me as your dear.

Instead, you asked me to help you,
I thought this was to grow closer,
But you were just my player,
and your game ---a love slayer.

I would give you that,
You are a very good liar,
And I am just a cryer,
Now start finding your new buyer


Wrong is what I am not,
for even after your plot
My heart still loves you,
All it is perceives blue.

Are you happy now,
After treating me like a cow,
Is your personal vendetta complete,
can I find someone else to please.

But I will still ask you,
Why did you choose me,
What made me a key,
What is that you plea?

When I see your photo,
Tears fill my eyes,
my hairs start to rise,
While my mind still ask---
“Why me?”

My love for you was true
But you treated me like your crew
Now I need something strong to brew
To forget that you ever flew

i waited for grief to come
in floods,
in salt,
in a body emptied out by mourning.

but nothing came.
only fog.
fragments.
a static silence where you should have been.

disgust,
i’ve learned,
is a dry wound.
it does not weep.
it rots.

you called me fake?
dumb?
CRAZY?
as if snapping my bones
could stitch yours whole.

your words clung to my skin
like mould on damp walls.
i scrubbed.
scrubbed.
until i remembered:
“the rot was never mine.”

you spoke like a warden
locked me in isolation,
called it care.

captivity disguised as care.
and i, fool enough,
tried to call it love.

when my heart cracked open,
you entered like a thief,
shattering the mirror
where i kept myself safe.

i watched my life flash
past, present, all of me.
as you clawed at my reflection,
as if breaking me
could free you from yourself.

you were never batman.
but a boy in a paper mask,
reeking,
hoping shadows would hide your stink.

i don’t hate you.
hate needs blood,
and you’re not worth a cut.

what i feel is filth,
the stench of your voice in my throat,
the memory of lowering myself
to touch something already rotting.

you are not a loss.
you are THE DISGUST.
the shame i scrubbed off my skin,
the vermin i left behind
writhing in its own dirt.

called you batman, thought it’d fit
turns out you’re just the joke of it.

I feel betrayed.
You wanted me back
and used faith to lure me in.

And I,
searching for answers in God,
fell for it—
like a fool.

So I came back to you.

Oh what a tangled web I weave
when bread crumbing is how I feed
her appetite for me.
It's quite the powerful role.
Sometimes I push, sometimes I pull.
Toying with her affection and attention
it's just a game you see.
It doesn't take much effort for me
to toss a crumb her way playing with
her triggers and traumas carelessly.
I manipulate her sweet heart
and harness her energy
but then I leave her hanging
by a thread swaying delicately.
I like to play with a few hearts at a time.
That way my options for ego strokes
dance around in my mind.
I don’t know I'm avoiding my own inner pain.
I wear
different masks to keep myself untamed.  

Oh, what a tangled web you've weaved.
You took my kindness for granted
and ignored my heart on my sleeve.
You thought you could play with me for your own gain.
But instead you will stew in your own self-inflicted pain.
I don't take kindly to feeling played.
You see this kinda thing fuels feminine rage.
It was never that I was too much.
It's that you're too limited in
energy, emotional regulation and such.
You thought I was a basic one
who you could easily get under your thumb.
But you were arrogantly wrong Young Gun.
Kneel before this High Priestess.
And know your place.
For you must now live the karmic lessons
that you shaped and continue to create.
That rut you say you're in and can't escape
just got deeper and messier in your space.
Maybe one day you'll face your fears buried deep in your soul
And you'll kick yourself for letting me go.
But I bid you farewell as I know my worth.
I am not a coward who runs from truth in fear.
I conquer it all with one silent tear
as it rolls down my cheek
I feel my affections for you disappear.
I straighten my crown and take a seat on my throne.
I now know for certain I will walk this path alone.

Augustus was on his way home beneath the scorching sun when he heard a group of people arguing — loud, hostile, nearly violent.

He already knew what it was about.
Supporters of Julius and supporters of Marcus, locked in yet another pointless clash.

Augustus sighed. He was no ordinary man — he could see what others couldn’t.
He knew Julius and Marcus would never argue like this themselves.
But their followers? They fought as if their gods demanded blood.

Curious, Augustus walked over to hear what the chaos was about.

Cassius: “That pale light in the dark sky — that’s the real sun. Look at those tiny sparkles around it!”

Felix: “Have you lost your mind? Marcus said this—the bright yellow one—is the sun. The other is the moon.”

Cassius: “Ha! Don’t make me laugh. Julius proved the sun is milky white, with dark patches across it. Maybe you should shut your mouth if you don't know anything.”

Lucia: “What are you even saying, Cassius? According to science, the one shining above us right now is the sun. The one you’re talking about is the moon.”

Cassius: “Whose science? Marcus’ science? Julius has his own research too. He said the moon emits light, and the sun just reflects it. So who’s lying now?”

Lucia: “A part of what you said is technically right… but you swapped the names.”

Cassius: “I didn’t swap anything. Marcus did.”

Felix: “Marcus is right. Your Julius is full of lies.”

The argument kept spiraling — logic against loyalty, facts against faith.

Augustus stood still, watching them like a ghost among the living.
Not one of them wanted to understand.
They just wanted to win.

He turned and walked away.
That night, he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, haunted by what he had seen. He was not even sure too - which one's the sun and which one's the moon.

The sun still burned outside.
But no one could agree on what it was anymore.

You gave me a boat—
A boat made of paper.
You painted it blue,
I preferred green.
You poor soul, couldn’t have known

Oh, You gave me a boat—
I said it was perfect,
And I knew it was paper,
Yes, I swear I did.

But I put it in the water,
Even quickly named it June,
A quiet way to remember
The day you forgot soon

And I knew it was melting—
And I know you did too

But god gave me a heart
Gave you one too
Though yours is for beating
And mine is to feel


Still—
I went in the boat,
Oh, I didn’t want fighting.
A few feet later,
I felt the water flow.

I swam to the shore,
And yes, I saw you laughing—
But still, I swam to you,

For I could not call for help
Help from the warm murky water
No I will not anger you.
And I didn’t choose to drown,
For I cannot bear it.

Bear to see you suffer,
Like I would have for you.
Though you do not deserve it,
And not for forever— I hope
I swim back to you

Russel was given the nickname ‘Knowsy’,
Because he knew just about anything.
If the signs weren’t apparent, like the glasses on his nose,
Russel was a nerd, and believe me, Russel knows.
Whenever someone needed help on a test,
“Russel knows,” and he dealt with the rest.
When the **** needed to finish his homework,
“Russel knows,” and then the **** forced him to work.
Oh, the curse of knowledge,
How the nerd turns from a laughing stock to a precious commodity.
Reduced from a human,
To a know-it-all without an identity beyond his brain.
Russel hated how he knew this pain.
Haley needed a favor,
An assignment was due,
And she couldn’t afford to fail.
So she went to Russel,
Not knowing about his crush,
Would his heart prevail?
He was skeptical,
Why was the prettiest girl in the world talking to him?
He had envisioned this in his head,
But it was only hypothetical.
Russel knew that it was too good to be true,
When the first words she said were,
“What did you get on number two?”
He was being used…again.
Russel knows how it feels to have your smarts be used against you.
Russel knows how knowledge can wound you.
Russel knows these things to be true.