They never noticed
when she stopped waving back—
how her laughter faded
like music from a passing car,
how her shoes stayed clean
for weeks.

once, she chased rain
to the edge of the river,
barefoot, out of breath,
her shadow chasing behind.
they called her wild—
too alive to sit still.

but stillness came.
not with a scream,
just silence,
growing louder by the day.

no one asked
why her side of the bed
was always made.
why she didn’t hum anymore.
as long as she smiled
and passed her tests,
they assumed she was fine.

when they looked for her,
the water led the way—
not the current,
but the quiet reflection
she once stared into
a little too long.

when they found her,
she looked almost asleep.
hair spread out like grass,
hands still.
no bruises—
at least,
not the kind they talk about.

maybe
she just wanted to know
what peace feels like
underneath it all

Somebody, give me your soul.
Clone army, Somebody 1, Somebody 2,
Anybody! Give me to you,
So that I can become Normal.

I am Nobody alone.
Just a waiting John Doe
For somebody to know
I was never my own.

I wish, I wish it was the case
That we were more alike:
That it wasn't such a hike
To walk the way you pace,

But I'm not. I'm only this.
And if you knew me
For even an eternity,
I'm one no one'll miss.

I'm nobody playing a role.

Heavy are the thoughts of my crown—
shining like praise, sitting like gold,
but weighing like stone. A halo to some,
a shackle most days. To rule, or to ruin—
always my own.  

Strangers slip seamlessly into the crowd,
positive, negative—all charges allowed.
Their pull is soft, then suddenly loud.

And here I split a poem in two: I am a
double entendre, a meaning doubled—
a double-edged sword that cuts away
the rules, and the cut you take when
you refuse.

–––

Once formal—but now cutting ties, from
those who cut me. Knowing is freedom
dressed sharp, but dressed like an excuse.

I am the canopy stretched over my throne,
the highest branch of dreams I’ve grown.
Shade to protect, shade to conceal—
comfort by day, a curtain from light.

But get under my skin, and you’ll taste
the irony— me throwing you shade.
You’ll stand in it, unseen in my sight—
just another stranger, swallowed by night.

I hate society—
not the word,
but the weight it straps to my back.

I hate judging eyes,
the kind that scan you like price tags
in stores you were never meant to enter.

I hate the whispers,
those secondhand sentences
stitched behind backs
then sweetened with smiles
when you turn around.

I hate the ungrateful—
the ones who drink from your cup
then ask why it wasn’t full enough.

I hate stone-throwers
in glass houses
who forget how loud
their own silence shatters
when truth hits back.

I hate the crowd—
the noise, the pretending,
the push to perform
when all I want
is to exist
in peace.

And sometimes,
I even hate the parts of me
still trying to belong
to a world
I no longer believe in.

Quiet calls my name from the clouds.
I lost my wings,
a deafening reality.
Quiet calls my name from the clouds.

There is nothing to ask of anyone,
nothing left to claim.
I sift through the fragments of memory;
whatever I find, I leave behind in silence.

Around the edge of the world
I draw a circle of emptiness,
lock myself within it,
and watch all other voids unfold.

I wonder—
are you emptiness,
or am I?
If not, then perhaps
every soul is nothing but empty.

I went on a jaunt through the park,
And found a man dancing underneath the stars.
Two-step, and he spun around,
His feet were so graceful on the ground.
He looked toward me and,
Extended his hand.
I didn’t know what to do,
Was this too good to be true?
Of his motives, I was unsure,
But he had this strange allure.
So, I swallowed and decided then,
To reach out and take his extended hand.

We danced in tune,
Of a melody no one could hear.
We danced throughout the night,
And though he was a stranger, I had no fear.
We moved together like we’d done this before,
But, I swear to you, this was new.
I didn’t want to go despite my intuition,
Before I knew it, the sun had risen.

We met over the course of the month,
Same spot, same time, and if that wasn’t enough.
We’d dance for hours, starting at the setting sun,
And we’d remain till the next day, when the morning welcomed us.
I never saw his face; he hid behind a mask,
But if he didn’t want to tell me, I decided not to ask.
I asked his name, but he merely shook his head,
At the time, I didn’t bother to question it.

We didn’t care if people watched,
We ignored their remarks as they gawked.
He spun me round, up and down,
Lifted me high and I touched the sky.
I was alone, but I was found,
I felt connected and like I had a crown.
Our waltz was all we focused on,
His hand in mine, things were fine, or so I thought.

One night, I was at our stage, all alone.
I had been waiting since the sun set long ago.
He was gone; all he left was a note on the ground.
I walked over, looked down, and then looked all around.
I picked it up, saw what it said,
And I finally knew who I had been dancing with.
It said a name,
One, I am ashamed to say.
Solitude,
Had left me destitute,
Now I was truly alone.
He had gone,
Left me behind,
All I had was my own.

I stood up, laughed out of spite,
And gazed up into the night.
Had I done something wrong?
Did I step on his foot or dance to another song?
Either way, he ran away,
Solitude had ruined my day.
So, figuring I was at a new low,
And needing a moment of respite,
I decided to continue dancing solo,
Throughout the night.

the night is quiet,
the air is cold.
no hand to touch,
no arms to hold.