We may have the same eye's
but I use mine differently

We may have the same heart
but I use mine differently

I'm Different cause I do things differently
I'm different cause I wear things differently

I may stand out differently in many ways
but I love it
and I love being different

I Am Different

I feel like a failure,
when I compare myself to people
who already died.

I apologize too much.
I never think I do enough.
I always go beyond and above,
Still I’m too fragile to be loved.

I’m so scared of the truth,
Yet nothing else will ever do.
Happiness has been the goal,
But I fear forever feeling hollow.

You and I deserve the best of me.
But who am I—why can't I see?

I don't know how to say no.
People say, "stop," I still go.
Always there, always giving—
Yet alone when I need forgiving.

I'd climb a mountain, cross a sea.
I'd burn myself out just to meet a need.
But I've already lowered the bar—
It drags behind me like a scar.

The world is loud. The vision’s getting hazy.
Please help me now... I feel crazy.

So many faces—
Which is mine?
Each stitched with guilt,
A need to stay in line.

What if saying "no" could feel like peace?
What if I took a space just to breathe?
Would you hold me when I come undone?
Remind me I don't always have to run?

I'm worn, but still reaching.
I'm bruised, but still believing.
I don't need much, just to be seen—
Not as a mirror,
But a human being.

People aren't easy,

they're full of expectations --


that keep pushing you.

People don’t think about
how much they hurt others,
but about how much pain
they themselves feel…

They don’t think about
how much they’ve truly lived,
but about how much
they have died inside…

He was praising death's name,
but they were scared to die.

He wore death like a perfume,
but they told him he stank.

He said: Death isn't scary,
you are scared for you're weak.

But they chose to be fearful,
and they died of the fear.

how far you've come.
do you remember every sunset
since the arrival of the sun
or do you crave the blessed dark
now more than ever?
the depth of misery's embrace,
the calm it brings, the warmth it takes,
like being stripped of every part of being you.
would you still welcome the collapse
or wait for sunlight to break through?
this grave's too shallow.
do you still wait to be transformed
or are you finally brave enough
to be in charge of your own form?
before the old survival instinct
can dig its claws into your throat,
remember, scars are there to guide you,
not to condemn, but to remind you
how far you've come.

it's a collection of intrusive thoughts,
you've been taking care of it for so long,
developing an attachment to it,
putting other attachment issues on hold.

it's the most worthless precious thing you have,
the rest of them might not see it, but you do.
the rest of them overlook your worth, too,
so casual you're not even sure it's still there.

such a funny story until it's not,
an impossible theory no one can prove wrong,
it's a collection of intrusive thoughts
that you've been in possession of for so long.

stepping back through the looking glass,
you might like the delusion,
but you don't like the questions it asks.
this version is only appealing at night
with your eyes shut tight,
but it leaves no favourable impression
in the daylight.
you long for a moment that's long gone,
a solution to a problem that's unsolvable,
choking on your own metaphors
for a life you once knew, way before,
a perpetual cliffhanger
that leaves you waiting for more,
but you're already faced with an excess.
you don't want to go back,
you're just mesmerised by the allusion,
reaching out to you
through the looking glass.