#confessionalpoetry
I linger in the shadows,
rehearsing every line of my prose,
starving for kindred to stay long enough to be mine,
while burying the wires of my seemingly accidental coincidences.
The wisest and most solicitous beings
must drag their pawns across the board.
Checkmate.
I built my realm with careful formulation
The wicked crime to be committed:
forcing spirits in a causal nexus of maneuvers.
I hide the scars that I have scattered on my heart as a child.
The vicious rejections of my being.
That is the architect of my everlasting scheming:
the brutal concealment of a desire to be loved wholly.
Yet you unraveled my soul and saw right through me,
made up your mind long before to stay,
and played the puppet for my sanity without me realizing.
With a wide, knowing smile on your face—
you memorized the choreography of my strategy,
you knew I only care.
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 11:58 PM UTC
Like a rat you run, far off to woe,
Didn’t say goodbye — I don’t care, though.
Why play the human role for show,
To seem more sweet, more charming, though?
You’re a rat, a beast — that’s how it goes,
That’s how you were born, that’s how it flows.
Sorrow’s useless to you now, I know —
Like a rat, you squeak and scurry below.
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 2:25 AM UTC
i’ve been sleeping fine these days,
taking longer routes home
to watch the clouds change colours.
i wear golden rings now.
i think they suit me better.
it’s nice.
it feels right.
i make coffee at midnight,
read about strangers in books
like i’m studying a former life.
i know all the right words now,
how the body keeps score somehow,
how memory moves in
after love moves out.
99 per cent of the time
i move fast enough to outrun my mind.
i work, i write,
wear myself dizzy.
sometimes i give my hands
something heavier than fear.
and it works.
god, it works.
i laugh from my stomach these days.
groove to music on crowded metro trains.
i became somebody
younger and older at once.
it’s good.
it feels right.
then there’s the 1 percent.
a voice with the wrong cadence
coming to split my spine clean through.
and suddenly
i am 21 again,
frozen beside my own reflection,
listening to somebody
turn me into something unbearable.
funny thing about ghosts—
they don’t always haunt houses.
sometimes they settle in the head,
in the half-second before laughter
leaves your lungs.
beautiful places freeze me now.
nobody notices.
i got good at hiding it.
when i was younger,
i used to think romance would save me.
nobody told me
it could turn me into surveillance instead.
now i read psychology at 3 a.m.,
and annotate fictional breakdowns.
it’s safe.
it feels right.
or maybe that should sound sadder than it does.
a week before 22,
my sky chart was unfolded.
apparently, my hands came with casualties.
funny—
i thought they’d tell me to panic.
instead
i slept well that night.
like my future had finally agreed
to stop introducing me to wolves.
maybe love and danger
wear the same coats.
still, i keep music playing.
keep my body moving
so it knows the worst thing already happened
and the room stayed standing after.
people think i’m too alive all at once.
until sleep rewinds
the wrong night.
and suddenly it’s all there again.
i gasp awake.
make coffee.
dance barefoot in the kitchen
with peanut butter
at the corner of my mouth.
tell myself
we’re lifting again today.
become the new version of myself
right on schedule.
like nothing ever happened.
that it’s safe.
it feels right.
7d ago
May 27, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC
It feels like the sun warms only you
Those black clouds slowly walk away
Body tension disappears
As you drown in the abyss of self-destruction
Aromas turn pleasant
Even the nauseous smoke
Sour, cheap, acidic flavors
Poking holes in your liver
Like Zeus’s eagle
Mind erases all right and wrong
You’re enlightened like Siddhartha
Beyond good and evil
Sometimes when it feels just right
You are alone
The notes play only the music of your soul
When it’s just right
You don’t thrive
It’s just enough
You are enough
May 19
May 19, 2026 at 7:08 AM UTC
Howling to be seen
Throat hurts from trying
Is it a cry for help
Or just mere survival?
Strong like faithful believers
But with holes in me
My weakness leaks
Like waterfalls
Hitting the ground with
So much force
Crushing
Shaping
A sculpture of me
That’s not identical
Am I malleable
Like clay in a master’s hands?
Transforming
Rejecting
My true form
Hoping that he will patch those holes
From which my weakness
Leaks
May 17
May 17, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
As the day starts
It’s like turning on a series
The start
The conflict
The ending
The titles
You’re just a statistic
In this episode
You blink
But not too much
Saying
“Peas and carrots”
Familiar scenery
You want to be the star
But you’re in the background
Somewhere behind the actors
You open bottles
You swallow them
Dreaming
Thriving
Why not me?
Sweet dreams
Numbed right away
Now you’re on
The switch is clicked
You speak like the man
Act like the star
You’re the one now
The star of this ****** show
Is this what you wanted?
Now get it
Play pretend
Because it says
“Fake it till you make it”
You believe it
This is you now
Episode over
May 11
May 11, 2026 at 10:25 AM UTC
Sailing through the ocean of learning,
where classes start with dates
and a group of so called classmates.
They were supposed to support,
like cheerleaders behind each other’s efforts.
I realized long ago,
classroom is just a show,
but never knew there also lived
an echo of ego.
A broken mirror never makes you smile.
Some eyes only talk to classroom tiles.
Strangers clap for the art,
love the artist,
but here students cheer for the face,
visual and blank, artful grace.
Harmless, simple soul,
is talking with me really that painful?
Beautiful eyes avoid my smile.
Those stings, it’s been a while.
Strangers are those people I know.
Jealousy overlooking class,
true like blurry glass.
Yet ,happiness wanted to share its clue.
Seen news, but reactions unseen by views.
Like always,
I am the most unwanted news.
Maybe a small achievement,
Doing something well treated like punishment.
that’s why no flood of good wishes
like the class leader,when they get so much over a small incidents.
Dear reader,
after a long study session,
my phone danced with surprising information.
A small poem I submitted
got fitted right into
The 'Writing Cafe Journal'.
Maybe a tiny thing to see,
but bigger than a star to me.
Thesilentobserver found a place there
with “Rooted in Your Light.”
For a moment,
life felt somehow fair.
No one heard the melody
I wanted to share.
Tiny dove didn’t care.
Polluted classrooms live within broken scales.
Art goes unnoticed behind a taped veil.
If you read this, remember,
I love every reader
who connects with me through their pain.
Pain is carved here.
Thesilentobserver is just a name.
I wish my reader
a painless December.
You are not a stranger ,we are in a same journey ,unnoticed passenger.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 8:53 AM UTC
The thoughts were so unkind, they carved a cave deep in my mind,
So I walked, one foot in front of the other until 30 kms away I was from another,
And I woke the next day the thoughts still inescapable, I had to do it again;
Another 30 k’s
Another stabbing pain
In my chest that I cannot escape
Another heartbreak
Coping mechanisms failing, and new ones prevailing
Autopilot mode set for surviving, speeding forward but I’m not driving
Swinging hands at my sides so they don’t swing bats or end lives
My legs don’t falter because to get through there is no other way
My mind shatters and is left behind as I trudge forward passing time
Breaking can be so familiar,
Sounding out like music in the mind
Dancing is the feet that
Move me out of
Mine.
May 6
May 6, 2026 at 8:50 AM UTC
Some memories dissolve
Like sugar in hot coffee
Some crawl back
Like a man hanging from a cliff
I have two fathers
They look alike
One calls me every day after work
Asks when I’m coming home
If I’m alright or falling
Simple care, like a father should
The other comes for a week
A week like hell
Long enough to go sane and crazy
Breath sour with cheap whiskey
Boyish, immature
Sad and grumpy
Mocking everything I do
Mind flies like a rocket
But the mouth can’t keep up
Can be insulting
Once was pysical too
But words hurt more
No — what hurts
Is having two fathers
Wishing the first
Would last a little longer
Now wicked genetics plays its game
I’m made like this too
Two parts of one
May 4
May 4, 2026 at 12:53 PM UTC
Gazing in the mirror, leering back is a stranger,
A shadow, foreign and weathered by danger,
A soul scarred for eternity, from treachery like a dagger—
Twice undone by himself, plodding through life in a stagger.
The more he stares, he drifts away to another time,
To one he could’ve had, an illusion of a perfect life,
A firmament that could’ve been, a haven of bliss divine,
Dwelling on a fantasy, a blueprint of his own design.
The illusion fades, the mind floods with memories of exile,
The trek across scorched deserts and thorny trails,
Echoing of roots as an outcast, where resentment finds its ground,
Pride anchors him, knowing that none could wear his crown.
Though what merit lies in pride, if unheard from another’s lips?
What value is of a crown which is heavy and void of gilded slips?
Bound to wander of a mirage where crossroads lead to grace,
Only to find the same stranger staring back from a different face.
– C.R –
Apr 28
Apr 28, 2026 at 9:09 AM UTC
From deep in a well of bad decisions,
Emanates a spring of regret and anger.
A spring that never runs dry,
Yet leaves you like a dry well.
You think the spring's outbursts will give you some release,
But it only carves room for more sorrow.
Little by little the pressure builds,
Until it's released- swift as a ****** bullet.
More pain comes from realising something:
"You're the cause of everything that's happening,
You're a terrible person, a liar,
And you were never truly loyal".
You damaged bridges to maintain one which was "out-of-order",
And now the government of your mind has shutdown maintenance.
They read the "heartfelt" messages you sent,
Never knowing they were bait.
You were never worthy of the privileges,
And despite knowing this, you messed up, every single time.
Your hunger took the wheel from responsibility,
And your habits made you choose the wrong wars.
Your actions got the better of you,
And drove you straight to your Waterloo.
And now you crouch in the wreckage you drafted,
Tallying ghosts on the headstones you carved.
No chronicles will mark this skirmish.
No monument for the campaign you lost to yourself.
Just a parched pit. A flood that keeps pouring.
And you, unlearning how to thirst for both.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 3:35 PM UTC
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.
I write this out of desperation
a final attempt to be absolved
before whatever comes next.
I write so you may pray
for a sinner without a name,
one you cannot — and must not — search for.
I was baptised, Father.
Finally.
Among thousands,
washed clean, made new.
So I believed it counted for me too.
I believed I was new —
until the purity I wore
was stained by a night
I never asked for.
So I’ll confess my present sin,
for my past has long been forgiven.
Where do I begin?
Perhaps with the least devastating.
I was pregnant.
With a child I feared,
and a child who would have feared me —
born from a moment that broke me.
And the man who caused it
lies beside me now, still.
His silence is the only mercy
he ever offered.
No, his end wasn’t gentle.
But it felt inevitable.
Why am I writing this?
As I said — prayers.
I may spend the rest of my life in prison,
if they find me.
It’s possible.
I acted in a rage I didn’t recognise,
and in the chaos,
I lost the child too.
My child.
Strange how the word
finally feels real
now that it’s gone.
So these are my confessions, Father
the ending of two lives:
one innocent,
and one who had long abandoned innocence.
P.S.
Forgive the stains on this page.
They aren’t mine.
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 4:58 AM UTC
Part I
Shall I compare thee to a star of night?
But thou dost shine better in the limelight.
Though the stars will fade when day is breaking.
Thou will linger when I am awaking.
Just like how stars guide us through the dark,
Your presence always guides me to my heart.
Your beauty is beyond constellations.
Stars never reap my appreciations.
A grin of pure glee and adoration,
Makes my heart stutter in desperation.
For every glance or whisper of thy name
My own universe becomes far less plain.
Although the stars will leave me standing lone,
Your light will never leave me on my own.
Part II
Lies come bearing the cruel fruits of my words.
They repeat for evermore between lips.
My own will never prepare for truth—
Truth of my desire; of my longing.
Looks of humiliation haunt my thoughts.
I wish upon twilight and moon for love.
They have misread my messages for you.
For you are the only one I hold dear,
But shame and guilt make me cower in fear.
Is it wrong to think of you in such ways?
I swear it’s your fault for that siren gaze.
A thousand deaths would I die for that sin;
My devotions are ***** to your kin.
I shrink when I think of what you might say.
And for my own safety of broken hearts
I’ll solemnly play my deceitful part.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 8:15 PM UTC
Thoughts race through my head,
To the point I can’t get out of bed.
The room stays dark through the day,
While ghosts whisper softly, “Today…”
And I lie there, wishing I were dead.
My eyes are always tearing,
The notebook and pencil—glaring.
Cold floor beneath my feet,
It’s time to stand, to face defeat—
Life is never kind, just daring.
To the other side I glance—
Sorry, I never gave you a chance.
Here’s the truth beneath the lie:
I questioned my very existence and I ask why?
When I ghost you, it’s not goodbye.
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 4:33 PM UTC
You met me as a sinner—
we learned each other’s hunger.
A love song on repeat, two scraps
of flesh, whispering want like
a secret language.
We spoke in lowered tongues
as the sun slipped out of sight.
Now the night calls me the way
daylight used to—
warm, dangerous, alive.
Take your opera seat,
lay every worry on top of me.
Hear my broken voice try to sing,
count the wrinkles in music sheets.
Rest here!
There’s thirst in man's eyes;
stars hiding in the hollow, learning
your shape, your weight; my favourite
learning curve to carry.
"Creatures survive in numbers,"
they say; but when their mate goes
missing, what’s left isn’t survival;
it’s an absence learning how to
breathe again.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 1:51 PM UTC
Drank a whole year at twenty-four,
Almost thought my liver forgot its job.
Fingertip burns; losing streaks,
******* rivers of regret;
I can't swim through.
Christian tears only fall
When I’m bargaining with God...
It’s human.
Heaven’s promised tomorrow,
The next day feels like hell.
Sunday first, Mondays again.
Fall to my knees, fall out of my pleas;
Jack of all trades, jacking myself up
Just to cope; barter trade myself
Just to get by; I rearrange stars
Behind closed eyes.
Please Lord, take me back home
To that poem— lost in its world,
Far from this broken one, in pieces...
I broke down in my very first poem
Feb 7
Feb 7, 2026 at 4:03 PM UTC
There I sat each night, prepared to drown the ache,
Praying each pour would grant my soul a brief escape.
Yet the old clock on the wall begins its mournful plea,
A stern and brooding gaze, though strangely kin to me.
The clock is rusted thin—corroded, tired, and frail,
A mirror of my past, a ghostly, distant tale.
Each tick exhales a grief I’ve struggled to ignore,
And every hour sketches fears I wouldn’t dare endure.
The glass of amber brew, the poison my heart desires,
Like a dance of love and hate, one of truths and one of lies.
She draws me with her beauty, and tames me with each kiss,
Yet her scent smells of guilt and regret, with sorrows mixed.
The stogie at my side is the companion of the long night’s hollow,
Each breath a fleeting peace from all that left or which may follow.
The sound of each drag is like the consoling words of a lover,
Silent but warm, fades yet echoes, like the memories left of her.
- C.R -
Nov 23, 2025
Nov 23, 2025 at 1:27 PM UTC
If I wrote you a love song— it would sound like withdrawal,
like verses hooked to my veins; being addicted to every chord.
It's a drug song, played on repeat in my bloodstream. Chasing
another scent of you— my nose runs on a good blow, a wind
that burns instead of breathes, a rush that leaves me hollow,
sniffling for the next high of love.
My mood takes a beating— top thoughts pulled back, receding,
like a hairline of faith thinning each year. And my lips— they
compete with silence, fighting not to confess, fighting not to hear
my own voice, a sound I’ve grown to despise.
Here I am— being the danger to myself, the trigger and the bullet,
the sinner and the prayer, knowing a piece of heaven might mean
rising above the very sins I cradle like lullabies at night. While on
earth wasting every dollar, every dream, to buy the same broken
key— a kilo, a lock, a note in the wrong song. Passively addicted
to the weight of this world, still rehearsing the refrain: singing
that Love song. I can’t stop humming.
And if I ever quit, it won’t be so clean and cut— there will be
a few relapses written in a rhyme, another verse I didn’t mean.
But maybe that’s the point— not every chorus resolves, not every
melody heals. Maybe some songs just linger in the air, _unfinished_,
a half-prayer, a half-confession— a tune I’ll keep humming long
after the music fades.
And maybe one day, that hum will sound like hope.
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 1:28 PM UTC
Tending fruit of what we leave behind,
roots break walls we build.
Hope grows heavy,
then it falls—
like Jericho.
Once there was glory,
then the world swallowed it whole.
I am not cursed,
but every apple I’ve bitten
tastes of the core.
Where there is money,
there is love—
and the root of all evil,
sweet poison.
I watch the lives of others,
dreams they wear like fine garments.
We chase illusions,
so gladly,
so foolishly—
to end up full on nothing.
Trust me, and know me whole:
I’ve floated on white lines,
pretending innocence
with powdered breath.
Say goodbye too many times,
and I won’t answer the last one.
This is my sonnet—
the count of the fallen man.
_All men have fallen._
And when the call reaches your heart,
what cost does love demand?
It speaks in voices tender, cruel—
the sound of devotion
from a wicked heart.
_All men have fallen.
All men have fallen._
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 3:20 PM UTC
you left today
tomorrow is uncertain
the day after
already too late
i tell myself
you are poison
take this chalice away
but memory betrays me—
the wine
the heat
my body in yours
and the truth—
i fell
you didn’t
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 6:38 AM UTC
mysteries
left unsolved—
scattered like ashes
across the floor,
like tracing smoke
to find the arsonist
who burned it down
to bury regret.
the evidence runs deep.
and the mirror
can’t lie
any longer.
he floors the pedal,
gives it his all—
but the past
clings like fire
in his rearview.
one last getaway.
just one more line
to cross—
because crossing them
is all he’s ever known.
he’s spent his whole life
living a lie.
Jul 28, 2025
Jul 28, 2025 at 2:39 AM UTC
The Thing You Carry
The things weary me the most
The word you choose
Stabbed my soul the most
The dagger I gave you
The power I gave you
The sword I gave you
You're using,
Manipulating,
Bearing the flag of supremacy
You nearly got me choking
You say I use AI
You don't know what I bear
You say it's emotionless
But you don't know what I carry
The weight I carry
Is hard to bury
The pain you raised
Is hard to erase
The trauma you caused
Is gonna cost
You think you're the best
Being a ***** is not the best
You say you're my friend, but all I see is an insecure girl
Who claims herself as a girl's girl
You're nothing more than a two-faced *****
You say you know me
But you still carry the 15-years-old me I bury
You’re blinded by your own mess to notice the stress
I'm hurting, I'm suffering, I'm evolving, I'm embracing
I'm writing, I'm shining, I'm penning it down, I'm hiding, I'm diving
I'm not a seashore bird, constantly migrating
I'm the Phoenix — always rising
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 6:08 PM UTC
I Could Have Been
I could have been—
I could have been your girl.
And not just any girl—
your girl.
The one you come home to,
the one you hold tight.
You wouldn’t have to fight
battles that weren’t yours to beat,
or carry secrets
you were never meant to keep.
I could have been happy—
happy with you.
If only
you could have
loved me
too.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 8:06 PM UTC
if my lungs were filled
with sand and ashes
i would still choke out
sonnets and haikus
and tell you how much i think of you
if there were a garden in my ribs
i would water it and care for the life within
in hopes that you would someday come in
and brush your fingers over
the jasmine and roses and ivy and bluebells
that adorn the walls of my heart
if my eyes were diamond crystals
opalescent shades of angel feathers
i would tear them out and
curl fingers of silver around them
and string them around your neck
so that they could rattle alongside
your beating pulse forever
if my teeth were to grow too sharp
nothing but fangs that tear and snap
full of venom, leaking from my lips
i would sew my mouth shut
and sit evermore in silence next to you
so you could never get hurt
and if my tongue were
dead in my mouth
i would breathe out your name
even if it never left my throat
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 4:16 PM UTC
the noise never fades;
my poise takes the bait;
in the halls of liberation,
i submit to my fate.
i took a solemn vow:
to be ‘holier-than-thou’.
neither wrong, nor right,
i knew, until now.
i failed to see a cause;
the effect? - a terrible loss;
blinded by obsessions,
i never took a pause.
it’s been a while since the fall,
when i sprung to a brawl
with my virtues, unmasked -
and caved in to nightfall.
it all seems a blur;
it’s ‘bout time i concurred:
my reason to exist
shall always be a curse.
Feb 3, 2025
Feb 3, 2025 at 12:11 AM UTC