#houseofcards
I'm delicate
Not delicate like a flower
No soft petals bending politely in the breeze
but delicate like a house of cards,
an architecture born of trembling hands
and borrowed balance.
I am balance masquerading as strength.
from a distance my design looks sturdy,
up close, its intentional, but unreliable.
One wrong breath,
One careless elbow against the table,
and the whole structure trembles.
One unexpected nudge
and the foundation falters,
the walls buckle,
My quiet composure crumbles
and everything i've built gives way
to the slow inevitable slide
of collapse.
This is the kind of delicate i am
a masterpiece of instability,
beautiful only in stillness.
My psyche, a cathedral of paper
beautiful, yes,
but vulnerable to the smallest shift in the world around me,
balancing on its tiptoes.
hoping the wind stays gentle
just a little longer.
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
If you are like me—
then you have seen blood.
Not metaphor.
Not symbol.
Just blood.
Without cause.
Without reason.
Just red. Just there.
If you are like me
you’ve seen hate.
Not the kind they teach in textbooks—
but the kind that smiles
through a courtroom lie.
The kind that hides behind injustice,
like a priest behind a curtain.
A petty victim of personal treason—
all sharp edges, no remorse.
You don’t speak of it.
You wear it.
In the back of your throat.
In your knuckles when you laugh too hard.
In the way your fingers twitch
when the room gets too quiet—
when the monkeys
jump and shout
in your ******* brain.
If you are like me,
you stopped believing in second chances
the day you saw it sold—
dressed up like the mother you never had.
Perfume, pearls, and a permanent vacancy
where love was supposed to live.
I remember
the look in her face
when I saw what the razor had done.
I remember
what they said—
“Can we look inside your house?”
I remember
the silence after.
And the fragments of the bullet.
How your lies
filled the room
like water fills lungs—
and I’m still
grasping for air.
No one ever apologized.
No one ever saw me.
They saw a story
they could sleep through.
And worst of all—
you never once
thanked me.
This is not a poem.
This is not a metaphor.
This is
my ******* blood
on the floor.
And still—
I opened the door.
The one
whose contents
lay behind the smoke
of mirrors
and a house
of cards
Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 5:55 PM UTC
I made a House of cards,
Storeys going up to infinity.
Clouds were too small to be seen,
And was god to this world.
Each card put down with a whip of breath,
And when the heart skipped a beat.
I didn't know something,
Which intrigued me too deep.
I rushed down from the top,
Reached the ground.
After a long time,
I saw my House of cards standing tall.
Beautiful and Glorious.
I could see till where the sky ended,
But it didn't.
Saw My House Of cards from the earth,
When my eye caught a glimpse of something.
My first card ever placed, An Ace.
It doesn't even matter, the first card,
It has a crack on it!
I realised
It was going to fall down.
All of it.
Oh not soon after,
did I see it all coming down.
Down to earth,
Down to me,
to taste the smell of water,
Coming down to the ground with,
a dark blue downpour.
I stood there, on my first card.
Wet and damp,
Until it dawned on me that...
My House of Cards was just any other thing,
which was built with love to see it being broken.
And to see it ending.
Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 2:02 AM UTC
Friends are like a house of cards;
The moment you take one out, they all fall apart.
Mar 3, 2021
Mar 3, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
*I've been climbing up these stairs for so long now,
But I'm still standing from where I started this brawl,
Is this a joke or am I part of a haunted story,
Cause lately I've been deprived of all the light and glory,
I try so hard to take one more step ahead,
But I fall back even harder instead,
I can hear the voices telling me to let this go,
Except that I am not ready yet to **** my own show,
How do I beat this out with merely a house of cards?
I'm not even an expert at beclouding my battle scars.*
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC