#familyisbullshit
She held the map of every secret vein,
The blueprint of your pulse, your hidden fears;
She knew the rhythm of your coming rain,
And dried the salt before it turned to tears.
How strange that one who knew the soil so well,
Could find the heart and light the match to hell.
The world collapses in a silent roar,
When she who planted lilies brings the flame.
The garden where you breathed is now no more,
A blackened script that bears your childhood name.
May the land of your soul never bloom the same,
When love is used to feed the burning game.
You stand amidst the ash, still breathing air,
A ghost of hope that waits for clouds to break.
You beg for storms to wash the spirit bare,
To cool the fever and the hollow ache.
But rain is just a witness to the gray—
It cannot wash the charcoal scars away.
The sky may open, and the floods may fall,
But water cannot mend what fire has stole.
You learn to walk behind a blackened wall,
For time is not a healer of the whole.
No matter what the seasons try to give,
A burned soul is a burned soul while you live.
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 6:56 AM UTC