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Oliver Feb 1
I wake to walls I did not build,
A space too small, a name too still.
They call me by a voice not mine,
A shape I wear, but never will.

The world beyond hums soft and bright,
A distant place I’ve yet to claim.
I trace its edges in my mind—
A whispered truth without a name.

The mirror shifts, the cracks run deep,
Yet in them, something starts to grow.
Not wings, not fins, but something else—
A self I’ve always seemed to know.

So let the door be rusted shut,
Let silence press against my skin.
I’ll carve a window with my hands—
And let the light come pouring in.
This Poem is about being trans and stuffs. I took some inspiration from the song Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage.
Forgive yourself
like the ocean forgives itself
for the wreckage it leaves
after a storm.

It crashes, it swallows,
it pulls away
and then it rests,
silent and still.

The tornado does not regret
its violence against the birds,
it only moves
until the wind calms.

Sometimes we destroy what we love,
tear apart the world
with words and silence
but we also heal with the same hands.

You are the storm
and you are the calm
you are the force
that pulls and the one that lets go.

Forgive yourself
for the hurt you’ve caused
and for the parts of you
that have been broken.
Immortality Jan 28
I stand alone, amidst the green meadow,
Grass embraces softly in its glow.
On the left, a cozy home,
where warmth and peace freely roam.

Blue sky,
shaping clouds with grace,
birds dancing in wind,
a lively chase.

Eyes closed,
the sun kisses my soul,
Eyes open,
I leave that heaven whole.

I write, unseen by all,
to know my truth,
I find myself in every word I choose.
:)
Charan P Jan 27
I have friends.
That’s what I tell myself when I sit with them,
pretending to belong.
But they don’t see me.
Not really.

To them, I’m the quiet one,
The innocent one,
The dumb one.
The child playing at adulthood,
Too naive to understand the world they walk.
They think I don’t notice how they talk down to me,
The way they smile when I speak of my dreams.
Like I’m too soft to notice
the sharpness of their words.

But I am not a child,
And I am not innocent.
I am a girl who learned
How to smile through the ache,
How to laugh through the hollow,
How to pretend that I don’t feel the walls closing in.

They think I’m easy to fool,
That I won’t catch the way they roll their eyes
When I speak of the things I love.
The toys that make me smile,
The lines of  books that cling to my soul,
The songs I bury myself in &
the piano and violin melodies
that feel like home in a world too loud.
All dismissed, waved off, ridiculed,
Labeled childish, unworthy of their time.
Like my joy is an inconvenience to their lives.

But I notice.
I notice everything.
I notice how they’ve built me in their minds—
A fragile thing,
easy to break, easy to ignore.
They have no idea what it’s like to be me.

They don’t know how my hands shake
When I hold back tears in front of them.
They don’t know how many words I swallow
Just to keep the peace,
How many pieces of myself I’ve hidden
To make them more comfortable.

They laugh at me.
Not with me.
They think I don’t see it,
That I don’t feel it—
The subtle cruelty hidden in their jokes,
The way they twist my softness into stupidity.

I am but a pitiful inclusion
of their conversations.
A mere placeholder in their group.
A shadow they barely notice
Until they need to feel smarter, stronger, better.

And I let them.
Because it’s easier to stay quiet,
To let them believe they’re right,
Than to fight against the weight of their indifference.

In the end, I shrink.
I fold myself into something smaller,
Something quieter,
Until I am nothing more than the version they created—
A shadow of myself,
Easy to laugh at, easy to control.

But inside, I’m screaming.
Inside, I’m crying.
Because I don’t know how to explain
What it feels like to be surrounded
And still feel like the loneliest person in the room.

They think they know me.
But how could they?
They’ve never looked past the smile I force,
Never wondered why my hands tremble,
Why my breath falters,
Why my voice sometimes dies in my throat.

I am surrounded by people,
But I am alone in a way I can’t explain.
Alone in the crowd,
Alone in their presence,
Alone in the silence I hide behind.

I sit there, smiling, nodding,
surrounded by their voices,
Their laughter, their noise.
And yet I am alone.
Because they will never understand
the weight I carry,
the weight of a heart that beats in isolation.

I pretend like I don’t care
When they say I’m childish,
That my love for vanilla makes me small.
But inside, I am clawing at my own skin,
Begging for someone to see me—
Not the version of me they created,
But the real me.

Everyone likes vanilla.
I like it a bit more.
But they don’t get it, do they?
How something so simple
can mean everything when you feel so ******* lost.
They mock me for it—
Like it’s some childish obsession,
Like it’s a flaw that I’m drawn to the soft,
The pure,
The things that make me feel whole
In a world that’s always trying to tear me apart.

They look at my quiet smile, my careful hands,
And slap a label on my skin: innocent.
Like I’m some sticker they can peel off,
Stick wherever they please
and forget.

But I am not what they think I am.
I am not a word whispered behind cupped hands,
Not the soft thing they’ve mistaken for weak

I love stickers.
Bright, bold, beautiful things
That I press into notebooks and corners of my world,
Little pieces of colour in the chaos I can’t control.
But I am not a sticker.
I am not something they can pin down,
Label me whatever they ******* want to.
I am what I am,
It is what it is,
so deal with it or leave.

If the consequence of me being me
is loneliness,
then so be it.

I am many things,
But I am not their innocent doll.
I am not a joke,
I am not their fool.
I am not just a sticker.
I am not just their label.
I am a mosaic of cracks and scars,
and one day, I will tear these labels from my skin
and show them the strength they never saw.
Who knows,
maybe they might finally realise,
why hurricanes are named after people.

Too bad they’ll never take the time
to know that.
They’re too busy talking over me,
too busy writing their own stories
on the pages of my silence.

I don’t need their pity.
I don’t need their approval.
But God, sometimes I wish
just one of them would stop
and look at me long enough
to see the storm I carry,
to hear the screams I choke back every day.

Because I am tired of being invisible.
Tired of being their afterthought.
Tired of being underestimated,
of being seen but never known.
I am tired of sitting among friends
and still feeling utterly, completely,
Alone.

And I inevitably find myself wondering —
Will anyone ever know this loneliness?
Will anyone ever stop long enough
to see the girl who hides behind this smile?
Or am I doomed to disappear,
lost in a crowd that never bothered to look closer?
~written for my best friend. (Female POV)
If you’re reading this, I want you to know that you are understood.
Britt Swann Jan 21
Because you fractured my heart in two;
Traded rooms for a better view;
Poured out barren, uncouth excuses
As swift as fragile lit fuses—
You wrought a novel shade of blue.

Delicacies taste bittersweet,
And frost resides where once your heat
Engulfed me where all tensions drew
Tight with lust and passion dew.
Now I bestride that wayward street,

But prudence never was my game.
By flesh or soul, I owned no shame.
Yet by your tongue, all should surmise
That I'm the **** before their eyes—
And my good name you defame.

It's your conquests that merit praise
Within those deep, August dog days.
And your deceit grew into tall verity,
Disauthenticating your rarity.
My veracity is now ablaze.
raahii Jan 19
A lonely heart yearning for connection,
Wandering soul, searching for purpose,
Conflicted, unsure of whom to listen to—
Mind, body, or the heart.
Scared, yet determined on this hopeful path,
Walking the road one step at a time,
Leaving his trail behind.
The journey is as important as the destination, with each step leaving a lasting imprint
I am me and not what others see me

I was confident, with a glowing smile,
A passion inside that could light up a mile.
I made everyone around me shine,
Focused, steady, with dreams to define.

Like a stream pulling fish with ease,
I knew I’d achieve greatness, piece by piece.
From the ground up, I’d build my way,
Until someone came and led me astray.

They made me question what I’d become,
Small and unsure, my thoughts would succumb.
How strange it feels to think you’re free,
Yet chained by what others want you to be.

I lost myself, or so I thought,
In battles my heart and mind had fought.
Something unchangeable, something innate,
A struggle I couldn’t fully escape.

But now I see what was hidden inside—
The real me, no longer denied.
The one who smiled and spread delight,
Who held his dreams in the darkest night.

The person who helped me see this truth
Is gone, yet left behind their proof.
And now I know, clear as can be,
I am me and not what others see me.
I am relieved
Sudhan Subedi Jan 16
It was never a walk in the park to try and fit in the niche,

Patterns altered,

Values allocated differently,

Galaxies were spun,

Poles far apart -

When I turned into you.

Your algorithm modified,

Borders merged, goals changed,

But, the race starts again,

An endless search to find a place.
A relentless journey of adapting and belonging.
Syafie R Jan 13
It calls, sharp as a crack in the sky—

is it a hand reaching to lift me,
 or my own voice,
 drowning in its own echo?

The wound hums with the weight of rescue,
 but I wonder if I’ve always been

the one to pull myself under.
Gabriel Yale Jan 12
Sleepless, the days stretch long and wide,
A distant verity softly wakes.
For moments bright, still far away.
They live within me, hidden deep inside.
I wonder, was that me I saw?
Who was I, was it me?
Mistakes I thought were right,
Yet I wait, unsure of why.
Is it love I'm waiting for?
A better self, hidden in the dark?
Loving even when it’s hard,
Alone, lost in quiet thoughts.
In a room, I drift and sigh,
Chasing fleeting moments by.
Longing deep, I fall, undone,
Reaching for love, hard-won.
A castle rises on a hill,
In my mind, roses bloom still.
A beautiful image I once knew.
"Sleepless" reflects the struggles of waiting for elusive better moments. The poem explores themes of longing, self-discovery, and the bittersweet nature of love. It delves into the uncertainty of identity and existence, questioning who we are and the meaning behind our desires. Ultimately, the poem contemplates the idea of waiting for change, for love, and for peace, but also the difficulty of truly finding them.
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