#innerbattles
Pride
I built a high wall
and crowned it with my own name—
no doors, only mirrors.
Even kings lose their kingdoms
when they kneel to their own face.
Envy
I watched your garden
and cursed my barren soil—
green turned into grief.
Jealousy is a hunger
that eats what it cannot grow.
Wrath
I struck without thought,
a storm inside my own chest—
lightning with no aim.
Anger burns what it touches,
even the hand that holds flame.
Sloth
The day passed me by,
soft as dust on a closed book—
I did not turn it.
Laziness is a silence
that forgets how to begin.
Greed
I took and I took,
until even gold grew dull—
still, I reached again.
Greed is a hollow echo
that never learns how to stop.
Gluttony
I fed every want,
not with need, but with craving—
full, yet never whole.
Excess is a kind of thirst
that drinks past satisfaction.
Lust
I touched for the flame,
not the warmth or the meaning—
just the burning skin.
Desire without devotion
leaves the soul cold in the end.
Feb 24
Feb 24, 2026 at 2:28 AM UTC
O, the painful smile—
I’m delighted to see you after a long time.
O, the heaviest voice,
I missed you so much.
O, the aching body,
You always touch me with care.
O, the master of all,
The one with overflowing thoughts,
The throbbing brain—
I hope you find peace.
"Painful battles are always fought inside oneself and by themselves."
— Heart
Feb 5
Feb 5, 2026 at 11:22 PM UTC
Let me lick on my wounds a little longer —don’t mistake me
speaking out for vomiting words; I just get sick of myself
sometimes, especially when my truth belongs to the world.
So sing me a lullaby fit for the world’s ending — a song sharp
enough to stab every heart. And when the rapture comes,
tell me: who’s really playing the chords?
By the cord hanging off my skin, this heart is a plug searching
for an outlet of love — but we stay electrified by self-hate,
skipping good advice with stone ears, hollow eyes, silent
tongues and effort set to zero.
Hanging around regrets, while a single tear hangs too;
old plans become new ideas we once hoped for tomorrow.
Unveil my sorrow, ignite my pangs, leave me each morrow —
when silent love is killing me, driving me to insanity;
you wanted me instantly, and in an instant it was all over.
Darling this world is so small, yet people refuse the small
talk that actually matters. Let’s clash into each other; crash
away from that practiced smile —embrace the present, even
if it disappoints us.
Clear your skin of familiar wounds; get your lick back from
whatever hurt you once, twice, so many times. This is life,
foolish children — and life keeps us all fighting to stay alive.
Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 10:19 AM UTC
__So complete, so absolute__—
is the one tear a man chooses to shed.
Because truth is, his emotions live in a shed too—
thrown together in panic, windows cracked,
doors barely hanging on.
A man who doubts his own worth
never finds the change he really needs—
and even his spare moments run so thin,
His spare tyre is flat from carrying too much
weight in the dark.
His dreams are balloons on sticks,
meant to rise but they are tied to the ground.
He is good to her, in small ways; but he knows
he could become better if he stopped confusing
survival with love — _if he let go of those instincts._
For where the heart burns wicked and the mind
judges cold, he meets his true rival: __himself.__
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 3:54 PM UTC
Bite into an idea— rows of teeth, tension tight.
Crowded smiles feel so exposing— _but this one,_
it gnaws deeper. The tension between teething
regrets and tethered faith feels so frayed, as if
the cord was always a little too short to begin
with.
I’m not riding the wave— just swimming a little
longer in my dreams; watching surfers sail off
while I sink into thought. But I surf the internet,
researching the cultivation of infinitude—
_whatever that means._ Diving into unfathomable
depths, only a few steps in and I’m already losing
my breath.
__Have I sprouted yet__? Most days, my sadness
drowns in my anger. Then a spark of joy appears—
_brief_, __fleeting__— but its glow only makes me
so sad again. And that sadness simmers back into
rage, and the loop begins once more.
_A cycle.
A seesaw._
A silent crusade to love myself again.
But the journey never really ends. Even while
searching for one. we push forward—again,
and again— until we find a better end.
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC
There are days I try to summon peace — to call away
the late-night ghosts still pacing the edge of sleep.
As I wear the last tears like glass in my dry eyes,
fragile, but refusing to fall.
As I hold faith in the sunrise — though I don’t know
if this night will stretch longer than I can bear, or if
tomorrow will rise with light enough to meet me again.
And if lips are a quiet prize — not just for kissing,
but for kindness — then may they still speak, softly,
with the warmth of a life beginning again.
Jun 6, 2025
Jun 6, 2025 at 3:48 PM UTC
I plunge into the cold water
it drags me down
my lungs constrict
as the water fills them
my mind is empty
it feels so nice
to have a quiet head
maybe I'll stay here
down at the bottom of the ocean
my eyes start to flutter shut
then I remember
I have all these people that care about me
who love me
and don't want me dead
I wanted to be better
want to be better
my eyes snap open
and I begin to swim to the surface
my lungs welcome
the fresh crisp air
my head bobs above the ocean
as I swim with all my might
to the shoreline
I finally make it
my lay against the sandy beach
as I rest my weary bones
and heavy heart
healing will come
rest up
before your next begins
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 10:15 AM UTC
I’m losing myself every day.
I’m tired of fighting these battles.
I want to be fought for for once.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone
Is glad to have me in their life.
What’s so wrong with me?
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:21 PM UTC
On the other side
of perfect
between the golden
silky lines
is the mirrored world
we live in
where ties
don't always
fully bind
they unravel
at the seams
get frayed
so rough and broken
as the blood and sweat
and screams
replace the words
of love unspoken
and we all have
a place for fake
for presentation,
a kind of lie
but the truth
snaps us awake
as we choose to live
or perhaps to die
Yes, some of us
might disintegrate
in the wake of
destruction's wrath
not seeing for the
blindness
that pain causes
on the path
for we forget
that light
inside us
in our darkest
stings of wounds
we forget how
high voltage wavelengths
reside within
the numbness
that consumes
and once reflection
melts the glass
and throws self-hate
into the fire
this is the hour
of miracles
of faintest stains
that take us higher
our deepest inner
whispers
that roll discreetly
through our veins
rumbling humbly
between heartbeats
that push the
bloodflow pumping,
igniting sparks
inside our brains
and whilst my heart
is battle-shattered
it quickens up in pace
as I electrify myself
and to the heavens
turn my face
let the wild sunset
bathe my soul in
shades of shocking blue
for after every
combat encounter
I rise again
anew
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 4:45 PM UTC