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Why do we fear,
the ones who hold us dear?
They love us, sure,
but, do they know us anymore?
They see the fake,
cause' that's all they can take.
So, in the end,
We're alone again.
But, do not fear,
for I am here,
to comfort all your sorrows away.
I have a feeling,
that it's all gonna crash.
It's all gonna burn,
just like trash.
It'll all disappear,
but I have no fear.
For I have lived through this once before,
and I don't like it there,
not anymore.
This series of "Unreleased Thoughts" is just gonna be all the poems that I have never wanted to show the world, but, in the end, decided to release them. No context. No specific point. Just my thoughts that are now out there.
nicole 11h
5-13-25

perfect angel until she does something wrong
shining star until it burns for too long

everyone loves her
yet no one sees her

a suffocated feather
locked in a cage
linked by chains
with so much rage
January 17h
Perhaps,
to empathise
to understand a little more
is to hurt deeply without a wound
is to hurt deeper than a wound hurts

For you try to search for the wound to find the sword's owner
to explain the scar that's to be there
But you feel your wounds without any
piercing, tearing of skin
without any escaping of blood
without any sword
or the hands that were to hold it
hands that were to be condoned by you.

But there weren't any
how does one hold his own empathy accountable?
his own ability to gaze at this world from different
or perhaps
all of the peaks.
Motivating myself
No matter what

We all have fears
These fears are sending thoughts to us.
These thoughts are nothing but bad mirages.
These thoughts feel real but look around
Is any of it here now? No.
Most of the times,
These have started out of one reason
THE ILLUSION OF FEAR.
Fear has a core from which it sends all kinds of thoughts. Recognizing this may help to let go of the fear or at least to decrease its intensity.
January 1d
Whether you wanna wear that yellow sundress,
or the black pants, but they require press.
Whether you wanna wake early morning,
or stay awake late nights reading.
Whether you wanna play a song to dance,
or a calm music to get a stance.

I wish those were the type of confusion,
Life tossed upon you in profusion.
January 1d
Is to bottle the fireflies you chased all night,
to watch the lightning and wait for the thunder,
to slip on green moss and fall away the daylight,
to hold onto lichens and ivies creeping the corner.

to let the sunlight make your freckles tickle,
to feel the grass your naked feet walk across,
to let the snow make your nose crinkle,
to love? is to feel the time pause.
January 1d
Dear books,
I love the feeling I get when the series of sentences you hold make me feel understood in the perfect manner.
To be honest, I sometimes envy that those words didn't come out of me
but mostly?
I love you for carrying what I failed or never even tried to bring out of my mind.
I hope you realise your importance and how much you mean and how it brings comfort to me especially at times when I feel low, you're always there.
I'm sorry you have to wait on a coffee stain sometimes or even untouched under heavier books
but mostly I love you for always being there.
Love,
January
Hey,
I read what you wrote.
And I want you to know—
Every word you sent out…
they weren’t just paragraphs.
They were proof that you were alive.
That even in your hardest moments, you still chose to feel.
And that’s something brave people do.

I know it might not have felt like it at the time.
Maybe you thought you were being too much,
too vulnerable,
too open.

But can I tell you something?
There’s nothing “too much” about being human.

You wrote when you loved.
You wrote when you were breaking.
You wrote when you had nothing else left but your own honesty.
And that’s not weakness.
That’s how you kept yourself from fading out completely.

So thank you.
For every message you sent into the void.
For every “I’m trying”
and even every “I give up.”
Because every single one was you choosing expression over silence.

And now?
Now you’re here.
Still breathing.
Still writing.
Still surviving in your own quiet, relentless way.

One day, you’ll look back and see—
those paragraphs weren’t cries for help.
They were stepping stones.
Each one taking you closer to the version of you who’s healed,
who’s glowing,
who made it.

And when you get there—
you’ll read those words again,
not with regret,
but with pride.

Because even when life didn’t hold you gently,
you still held onto yourself.

That’s not weakness.
That’s strength.
And it’s still with you.
Even now.

So don’t stop writing.
Even if it’s messy.
Even if no one replies.

Because sometimes… the most important person who needs to hear you
is you.
I’ve lost the art of praying for love;
Instead, I’m constantly praying for cause
Cause what’s the point of a lover’s love,
Without it coming alongside a real cause?

Cause you may say you love me
Professing your love with all your heart –
But in return; you go, and break my heart
Being the cause to my unstable mental state,
Being less of a state – more of a mental break.

So, please, apply your brakes, before you
Lay your heart bare before me – dreading
The thought of chronicling you as one of
My many, many mistakes; as your pretend
Love, served as that very cause.
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