They call it a gift,
this body of mine,
but every month it gnaws at itself,
chews the lining of my womb,
spits out blood like a sacrifice
to a world that does not care.

I step outside,
eyes crawl up my skin like ants,
like maggots,
like fingers that never asked for permission.
A whistle slits the air—
a razor against my spine—
I swallow the bile, keep walking.

Mother said, don’t wear that
Father said, boys will be boys
I say nothing—
only dig my nails into my palms,
so deep the crescent moons bloom red.

I dream of shedding this skin,
peeling it back like an overripe fruit,
scraping out the parts that feel *****,
that feel weak,
that feel like they do not belong to me.
I want to be new,
to be sharp,
to be something they cannot touch.

But even in dreams,
they chase me.
Even in dreams,
I run.

Trees silent and still its sufferings strange
But happening below unseen who knows
From electrons to cells to worms and moles
Its cries heard in the depths of earth
Its agonies pain the highest heavens
All life reached and touched and soothed
Its griefs mutually shared and resounded
And heavens weepingly reassure in every tear
That evil judged and nothing's futile
Greater yet the glory surpassing the beauty
In every branch, leaf, flower and fruit

I am slipping away
My face blurred in memory
My name fading on the edge of their lips
I was reaching for something i could not hold,
trying to exist in a world that never wanted me, never saw me

And then you came
You spoke my name

Like it had never been lost
Like I had not fading
Like I had always been real to you

I had wanted to live
Where I belong
To be seen, to be known
To be cared, to be loved
To be Remembered.

And I never knew why—
Until I saw you

You had held onto every part of me, even when i had forgotten myself
You were more than just the one who brought me back
more than just back to who i was
more than just back to where i belonged

You were the reason.

The reason I fought against the silence.
The reason I held on when the world tried to erase me.
The reason I longed for something more than just existing.

And i knew then— I was never lost.

Peter, your ghost doesn't linger
Not as much anymore, you've got others to adore
And I searched for you again for a while
Almost forgot, you left me at the Nile

In the dark pit of my past life denial
I swore it felt like I was under trial
Made me feel I knew darkness before you
But I knew it all because of you.

And in the memory you don't recall
I know I was left behind and you did nothing at all
Just as it used to be
And just as you showed yourself to me.

And maybe I'm reaching for the unseen
But you showed me what you mean
In the dark pit of my faded memories
It triggered my miseries.

And I won't admit to a thing
Like the writers who let lamps burn
I thought of you in secret and then in his bed I would turn
I did blame myself for it all

And I still curse and ***** as I dig my own pitfall
When it's all set and done
Their bones will rot and I'll watch myself return
To do it all in the name of the fire I swore to watch burn.

I’m weird,  
for dreaming in broad daylight,
for speaking in riddles,
and letting my silence speak louder than words.  

I’m weird,
because my thoughts spill out in silence,
hovering on my lips like secrets,
and when I speak,
the world looks away,
as if the truth in my voice
is something they’re not ready to hear.

I’m weird,
for finding beauty in broken things—
the fragments others throw away,
and in the bruises I hide beneath my skin.
They whisper stories,
reminding me of the pieces I hold together in myself,
stories (that) only I seem to understand.

I’m weird,  
because I laugh when I want to cry,  
and cry when no one else does—  
my tears fall for the stars,  
and my heart breaks for the moon.  
I feel too much,  
love too fiercely,  
as if my soul was made  
for a world too fragile to last.

I’m weird,
for I don’t fit in the spaces they give me,  
so I carve my own,  
even if it means standing  
on the edge, alone.

But if weird is what I am,  
then let it be,  
for I’d rather be this beautiful ache,  
this painful bloom of something true,  
than fold myself small enough  
to fit into a world  
that never made room  
and never will.

I’m weird,  
and maybe that’s the best thing I’ll ever be—  
not perfect, not easy to understand,  
but real, raw,  
and unashamed  
of every odd, jagged piece  
that makes me whole.

I am like the wind that goes unseen.
I am the shadow, untouchable, fleeting.
I am the darkness whose light eludes your sight.

Who am I?

I walk beside you, invisible yet near.
I live and breathe among you,
Yet you cannot feel me.

I am like the fading wind,
Whispering through the silence,
Longing to be felt.