Here I am, struggling through the battle of life,
Fighting the monsters that live inside me.
I’m tired — I want to give up, I want to run.
But their ****** laughter still echoes in my head.
Every wound they gave still bleeds, the pain still fresh.
Something inside whispers, “Let go,” but now I see—
It was never me. It was their curse that clung to me.

Here I am, waging wars I was never meant to fight,
Bleeding from wounds I should never have carried.
The pain still knocks me down, again and again.
I escaped their grip the first time I spread my wings—
But why did I have to flee?
When my angels left, I had no one left to turn to.
My cries for help were drowned by the devil’s laughter.
I watched my angels bow to the dark — and hope abandoned me.

Here I am, looking back at the wreckage of my path,
Their voices still echo, loud in my mind.
All the pain, all the memories fuel this rage—
My heart, twisted, filled with hate.
My broken mind hates the one I love,
And loves the ones I wish I didn’t.
So I built a fortress around my heart,
Forged in hate, it shields me from life.

Now I’m alone—surrounded, but alone.
I want to break free.
But now I realize…
I have become my own captor.
And escape feels impossible.

But still, I’ll try.
I’ll keep going.
Because I can’t give up now.

Tomorrow needs you .
You don’t know what seeds
you will miss out on seeing grow.
You already planted them so,
you
might as well live another day.

See what sprouts pop up in the
warmth of the sun.
Tell me, are you having fun now?

It’s just the way life goes.
So, please stay a few more days.
A few more always leads to
A few more.

My body is not my own
Pass it along to anyone
And my heart doesn’t live inside
I have nowhere to hide it
And the places I’ve called home
They are not my home
I think I used to feel differently
but now I don’t know

You always had a place to go
You always had someone to hold
I had to listen to you fight at night
And now I’m alone

I know you never loved me
Sometimes I still want you to touch me
Down in the trenches
You always knew what to provoke
so I’d never come to my senses

And it’s mostly all my fault
It would be easier to say I blame you
I was too young
I didn’t know
I was hurt
It wasn’t my decision
but it was mine to make
Still,
I can’t take it back
I cannot escape
It has nothing to do with you
anymore, anyways

It all crescendos to inaction
And floods my interactions
It all feels too big
It’s in a cloud
above my head
And I can’t reach it
The intangible
weight of grief
I am a miserable
ghost of me

why would she be here?
why would she leave parts of herself
in a place that's been promised to ghosts?
for reasons unknown,
for motives unclear,
for every line that made her feel
a little less wanted each time it healed.
she stands and waits,
watching the remnants of light fade away,
letting herself submit to whatever comes next.
the whispers grow near,
her vision is blurry,
her posture is rigid,
her heart is so solemnly still.
she hopes to find peace
in leftover pieces that no one else needs,
but she can still use them to fix up the holes
before all of her disappears.
why would she be here?

"If you truly love them, let them go"
But what about me?
I did the right thing
Yet here I am, hurting and crying
Wondering when it will stop
They say that time heals all wounds
But so much time has passed
And the wounds are still there
I did the right thing
But I am punished for it
I let them go so they can be happy
But they left the pain with me

you lay me in the backseat of your sports car
body flush against me, tangle of limbs as hands grasp
nothing tangible, your body passed through me like a ghost
the old painful haunting of a memory playing in my mind
projected, big screen my eyes growing distant as you crept into my body
the thief in the night, alcohol breath
enough to make a girl wince
domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping
my eyes sting too, reminded of a pain
your man hands, big hands
calloused from work a girl like me will never know
pawing at the impure skin
big hands, man hands
the force a ripping now too real
working to take something
domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping
her cries harmonizing with mine
one that threatens to break glass, our aria of suffering as you split me in half
rending me in a way so whole yet incomplete
pain without the tender kiss of pleasure
man, all man, all terrifying unholy man
and as you pull me out of the backseat you ask
“was this your first time?”
“yes,” i lie
and domina, purissima, immaculata sits in the front seat weeping

Leave when the sky is loud but the sidewalk is quiet.
When the door clicks shut like it’s keeping a secret,
don’t flinch.
Let your hands hang heavy,
the silence has its own grip.

Take only what fits in your chest,
you’ll be shocked what doesn’t.
Use only what won’t puncture your lungs.
(Even breath can betray you.)

Don’t check the mirror.
It lies loudest when you’re quiet.

If you must cry, do it in motion.
Stillness makes grief cocky,
then it hands you a mirror labeled “proof”
and waits.

Let the memory bruise.
Don’t label it.
Names are spells.

Closure’s a mirage
that waves from the distance
and never once turns around.

When the day feels unbearable,
bear it.
Not because you’re strong—
because you’re stubborn
and still here.

By month three,
his name will taste like static.
By month six,
you’ll forget the exact color of his laugh.
And by month twelve—
you’ll mistake the whole thing for a metaphor.

You’ll almost be right.
But even metaphors
break skin.
Memory crusts,
but it never closes.

They say pressure makes diamonds.  
Fine.  

But here’s my truth:  
My peace was forged under  
every ******* ounce
of what came before.