#shadowwork
They expected a wound to become a weapon.
Expected the broken to grow teeth sharp enough to cut through bone and split the world open the same way their heart was cracked in two.
But some people carry pain like lanterns instead of knives.
Some learn the anatomy of sorrow so intimately that they can recognize it in the tremble of another's voice,
in the way someone laughs too loudly,
in the silence between every “I’m fine.”
There are souls who become softer after surviving what should’ve hardened them.
Not because it hurts them less,
or because they are “holy.”
But because they remember exactly what it felt like to bleed unseen.
So they bandage others with the same trembling hands that once reached out for help only to come out empty-handed.
This is the paradox of Chiron, “the wounded healer.”
A person stitched together with scar tissue and starlight,
turning old grief into medicine.
They’re living proof that hurt people don’t always hurt people.
Some create shelter.
Some lead with compassion.
Some become the calm voice saying,
“I know this darkness. Come sit beside me. You do not have to survive this alone.”
And maybe that is the holiest thing of all — to stand at the edge of your own suffering without pushing another deep into the abyss.
To be strong enough to say:
“The pain stops here.”
May 25
May 25, 2026 at 5:21 PM UTC
Hold your silence, but let it hum with a song,
Be heavy with sadness, yet know where you belong.
Grow tall and wise, but keep the child’s silver play,
Build walls of glass—clear to see, yet keeping hurts away.
Give with a quiet hand, not for the world to see,
Be firm in your truth, but let kindness be the key.
Let your anger burn as heat, but never as a blade,
Walk trembling into the dark, but go unafraid.
Let your failures be guests, not ghosts that haunt the hall,
For when you bow to the stumble, you rise above the fall.
For you are the sun’s high fire and the moon’s soft pull,
The jagged, broken pieces that make the spirit full.
You are the brilliant bloom and the rot beneath the leaf,
The logic in the mind and the salt within the grief.
It is not a war to win, it is not a self to shed.
It is not about the "good" or the stories you’ve been fed.
It is simply pulling out a chair for the parts you used to hide,
And letting the shadow sit peacefully by your side.
Acknowledge the storm, the ugly, and the grey,
Give them a seat at the table, then continue on your way.
You are not a single note, but the symphony they make—
Whole not because you’re perfect, but for every breath you take.
So tell me, now that the house is open and the light is stable,
Will you finally give them a seat at your table?
Apr 27
Apr 27, 2026 at 9:28 PM UTC
I cast a shadow most clearly
In the light.
Better though this shadow
Then hiding in the night.
(C) - 2003
Jan 3, 2022
Jan 3, 2022 at 12:01 AM UTC
The vices coiled like serpents in my veins,
Their venom sweet—a nectar laced with night,
They whispered lies through pleasure’s slick remains,
And drowned my dawn in shadows without light.
I wore their chains, a crown of thorns disguised,
Each link a lie I’d polished till it shone—
The bottle’s kiss, the gamble’s fevered prize,
The screens that stole the stars I gazed upon.
Then came the day the tempest lost its roar:
A stillness fell, like rain on desert sand.
Some grace slipped through a long-barred, rusted door,
And took the shattered pieces in its hand.
It wasn’t fire. No lightning split the sky—
Just sunlight, soft, on wounds I thought would bleed,
A quiet voice that asked me, "Why still try
To plant dead seeds for every hungry need?"
The cravings hissed, but now their fangs were dull;
Their scales fell off like leaves in autumn’s chill.
I felt my lungs breathe clean, my skull grow full
Of space where peace could build its sacred hill.
My hands, once claws that scraped for more, more, more,
Now held a cup where clarity could bloom.
The war within still echoes, but the core
Is rooted deep where light dispels the gloom.
I am not fixed—just mending, stitch by stitch,
A tapestry where frailty meets the sun.
The vices? Ghosts that haunt a distant ditch.
Today, I choose the battle not begun.
Apr 1
Apr 1, 2026 at 3:16 AM UTC
I did not break.
I adapted.
The Watcher —
eyes sharp,
pulse wired,
reading danger before it breathed.
Paranoia, I called her.
Trauma, she was.
The Fire —
love fiercely or lose everything.
Cut first. Burn first. Strike first.
Too much, I said.
Fear of being left, she was.
The Pleaser —
soft voice, over-giving hands,
apologising before words formed.
Weak, I called her.
Survival, she was.
The Ghost —
blank eyes, drifting,
watching my own life
like it belonged elsewhere.
Broken, I called her.
Protection, she was.
The Shadow —
heavy, quiet, pressing in,
carrying pain that threatened to consume me.
Shame, I called her.
Survival, she was.
The Fighter —
back straight, pride stubborn,
homeless but unbowed,
fear in one hand, pride in the other.
Cold, I called her.
She was surviving.
Years passed —
doors closed.
Trust shattered.
Safety disappeared.
Mind split into extremes —
safe or unsafe,
love or loss,
forever or never.
Nervous system alarmed.
Every raised voice,
every pause,
every shadow
a threat.
I thought I was unstable.
Difficult.
Disordered.
But I was dysregulated.
Unhealed.
Running from fires that were already over.
Every mask had a job.
The Watcher prevented danger.
The Fire prevented abandonment.
The Pleaser prevented conflict.
The Ghost prevented collapse.
The Shadow prevented being consumed.
The Fighter prevented defeat.
They kept me breathing
when I did not know how to live.
Healing came slowly —
pausing when the chest tightened,
questioning what was real,
staying when survival screamed run.
I am still healing.
Some days the Watcher wakes first.
Some days the Fire flares.
Some days the Ghost drifts.
Some days the Shadow presses heavy.
But now I notice.
Now I breathe.
Now I choose.
I do not hate the masks.
They built me.
They carried me.
They survived for me.
I am not just survival now.
I am regulation in progress.
Attachment learning safety.
Nervous system slowly trusting
that not every shadow
is a threat.
I am softer —
but not weaker.
Aware —
but not ruled by fear.
I am not cured.
I am becoming.
Stronger than any mask
ever made me.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 4:33 AM UTC
I move through midnight, steel in my spine,
instinct awake before any sign.
Whispers shift and I already know —
I feel the danger before it can show.
Fear was my teacher, steady and cold,
teaching me truths that survival told —
how to read fractures behind a smile,
how to sense what lingers hostile.
Nothing slips through my watchful air,
not the silence that isn’t fair,
not the glance that lingers wrong,
not the pause that lasts too long.
My bones remember. My blood recalls.
Every bruise built iron walls.
Every lesson, sharply drawn,
forged the strength I’m standing on.
Hands reach out — I cut the thread.
Lies unravel where I tread.
Shadows falter, plans fall thin
when they find the ground I’m in.
I have known the dark too well,
felt its weight, its private hell.
That is why I do not bend —
cycles break where I defend.
Through chaos, through fire, through tightening air,
I do not falter, I do not scare.
No harm crosses the line I draw,
no shadow slips beneath my law.
I rise — not fragile, not blind,
but sharpened, certain, defined.
An iron shadow, fierce and still,
between the dark
and my own will.
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 3:59 AM UTC
Why do I feel numb why is there pain what do I have to do to ******* change no one’s listening they don’t understand I just want off this ******* planet everything I do is always bad my depression keeps hitting me and I just haven’t got the fight anymore I’m just sick of pain I’m sick of being the way I am but yet I feel caged with my pain running through old cycles again I’m overcome with every ******* emotion under the sun that’s why I smoke I do it to feel numb
I’m sick of trying I’m sick of rejection why is it me that I have to ******* question why is it the way it is in this world why is it everyone gets everything first I’m sick of abundance I’m sick of breakthroughs I’m done with it all I have no beliefs anymore I just don’t know why I’m here I don’t know why I feel like every little thing I do is a failure over and over I’m sick of it all man I wish I could just swallow every ******* pill just to feel nothing just watch as my soul leave my body return to whatever I am from because I’m in this ******* world I feel like I have ******* no one
Pessimistic words just stay in my mind making me believe that it would be better if I just died I know its crazy I wish I could lie but if I died tonight it would be cool just to feel something is better than feeling like I’m a fool it’s so selfish to feel this way but yet my mind says it every day
I don’t know what to do all I have in my mind is sadness grasping at straws wishing my life could change people saying I need help if I had it back then I ******* wouldn’t be here maybe I would be ok if the results were given maybe my childhood could have been different instead I decided to try to end my life at 12 years old tying cords around my neck going to sleep that night wishing I wouldn’t wake up because my pain wouldn’t leave but unfortunately I didn’t succeed
Right now I’m numbing myself further because I’m 31 jobless watching everyone around me get their wishes and riches but yet another door is slammed in my face and now it’s another **** direction to take I feel like everything I do is a **** mistake I just feel like I have no one my brain is just wanting out and honestly if I had the energy to do all of this I would in a **** heartbeat maybe even go to a different country and just buy as much pills as I can and down them til I’m gone I just don’t know what to live on for now
I will get better I will try my best as much as I can I know theres always a plan
I know theres light at the end of the tunnel
As I go to bed at night I find happiness among the sad
Whether it’s trying to make myself happy or making people laugh
there is always a way to allow yourself to live
You are allowed to forgive yourself and the people who caused you pain
Theres ways of moving on in life
I know it’s hard to believe
Anything you put your mind to
You
Will
Succeed
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 9:20 PM UTC
Oceanic depths,
And deep mysticism.
The force of the underworld,
And the unseen.
Where form is birthed -
And cyclical ways are occurring.
Deep feeling,
Intuition,
The web of interconnection.
Feminine essence -
The Goddess.
Arising on the planet -
Returning, home.
Words by Sylva Rose ©
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 5:21 AM UTC
Her depth,
Her mystery,
Her dark water abyss -
The night time fall,
My soul comes to kiss.
Eternal,
Majestic,
Her shimmering ocean shore.
Infinitely deep,
I hear her call.
A mirror to myself,
Feeling so right -
I find what is lost in the dark of night.
Sparkles of fire,
Burning far away -
Unclear to my eyes in the light of day.
Her pull,
Her sound,
Saying "remember what is true -
The depth of the infinite, lives inside of you"
Stillness,
Runs deep -
Through to the realm of no end.
I allow my inner realms,
And the dark of night to blend.
Words by Sylva Rose ©
Nov 19, 2025
Nov 19, 2025 at 5:11 AM UTC
This darkened spray and mist,
It has every right to exist.
And it guides my hand to write,
Blending beautifully with my light.
Black and white particles that interlace,
I come to release this perfection case.
Words by Sylva Rose ©
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 9:16 PM UTC
My inner richness,
This blackened gold.
Depths of eternity,
And an out breath, sweet.
My amber heart,
Shines true,
Through, from shades of black.
Peace in feeling,
Surrendering in,
I fall through each layer,
A spiral of descent,
To her heart of creation.
The chiming of truth,
Sounds that are holy,
And a fragrant rush of my own soul.
I rest in Heaven,
Under this blackened sky -
Of surrender.
Words by Sylva Rose ©
Nov 17, 2025
Nov 17, 2025 at 8:59 PM UTC
They don’t live in the dark.
They live where you keep whispering their names
and calling it memory.
You say they haunt you,
but you leave the door unlocked,
set the table,
pour the drink,
and ask them how they’ve been.
They feed on routine —
the same thoughts,
the same lies,
the same wounds you pet like pets.
Stop feeding them.
Starve them with silence.
Name them once,
then burn the name.
Let the house go empty.
Let them wander hungry.
And when they beg to come home,
smile —
and say,
“I finally learned to eat without you.”
—Vazago
Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 3:52 PM UTC
The thick wall that kept rising, receding.
The dense fog that kept clouding, thinning.
The loud silence that kept ringing, quieting.
The deep uncertainty that kept looming, fading.
The endless panic that kept alarming, silencing.
The fierce anxiety that kept suffocating, breathing.
The lonely hate that kept restraining, releasing.
The fiery anger that kept bubbling, calming.
The dark shame that kept dragging, lifting.
The grounded doubt that kept blinding, seeing.
The aching envy that kept crippling, accepting.
The jolted lust that kept begging, affirming.
The beautiful vulnerability that kept coiling, unraveling.
No longer lurking in the shadows of my soul,
but co-existing in the light of my truth.
Oct 6, 2025
Oct 6, 2025 at 10:22 AM UTC
It’s not about the pain itself,
but the pain as company—
to carry it with me today,
because once
there was no love,
no peace,
no joy.
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 6:13 AM UTC
Just when you think
you’ve healed
all your wounds,
the mind whispers:
Not yet, darling.
There’s still **** hidden here,
tucked under the rug,
waiting to be seen.
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 6:08 AM UTC
The baskets spill, the piles are high,
unfolded truths that will not lie.
A basement door is pressed and bound,
with secrets clothed but never found.
I sort the fabric, piece by piece,
for some bring pain, and some bring peace.
The child I was still leaves her mark,
a tender seam, a hidden spark.
The mother’s cold, the lineage torn,
old stains of those who came before.
Yet in my hands I choose what stays,
what must be washed, what I’ll erase.
Each folded shirt, each garment worn,
a burden shed, a self reborn.
And through this work I come to see:
not every thread belongs to me.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 10:23 AM UTC
An abandoned cathedral
where I drag my soul to repent for my
𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨.
A lady appears in a wedding gown-
I feel like I am 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚 again.
Her dress turns 𝙧𝙚𝙙. She turns her head—
and wicked reads her eyes.
I face my fear and go too near to find that she’s gone 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙙.
She disappears and then appears a puny 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬-𝙙𝙤𝙡𝙡.
It chases me, I trip, I fall, they drag me to a hall.
“𝘕𝘰! 𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴!”
I wake up-
deep breath & sweat.
I wonder of what it meant…
To dream of
𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙚𝙣𝙩.
Jul 23, 2025
Jul 23, 2025 at 11:05 AM UTC
You can hold me —
but only with open hands.
You can call me —
but only with a voice soft enough
to leave my name free in the wind.
Control once broke me.
Chains once fooled me.
But I’ve rebuilt my soul
with scorched truth
and stubborn fire.
So trap me again, if you must —
but only with love.
Only with warmth.
Only with the kind of touch
that frees
while holding tight.
Because I will never kneel
to anything less
than love.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 12:47 PM UTC
I stood still,
not because I’m weak,
but because I thought
you needed somewhere safe
to swing your pain.
You said I was your punchingball —
and smiled,
as if the truth was something
I should be proud to carry.
As if bruises count as love
when they come from you.
But I bleed in silence,
and you don’t see the cuts
because they don’t show
on skin.
They show in
numb mornings,
tight throats,
quiet yeses.
You still think
I stay because I can’t leave.
But I stay
because I choose to.
Don’t make that choice
feel like a mistake.
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 10:10 AM UTC
My freedom came
when I stopped reflecting myself —
and started seeing the mirror.
Not to judge.
Not to fit in.
But to face the gaze
no one else dares to hold.
What you see
is what you want.
Not necessarily what’s true.
But look deep —
deep into the eyes of the mirror.
Inside… is truth.
Not the kind you polish.
Not the kind you sell.
Only the kind you carry —
or burn from denying.
Socrates whispered:
“Do you know who you are?”
Lucifer answered:
“Now he does.”
And I smiled.
Not because I liked what I saw,
but because I finally dared to see it.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 5:05 AM UTC
Channel 2
Nightly News
Who even knows anymore?
The clink of dishes
Disarray
Discussions a-bout dynamite
Likely to tear my hair out
It's fair to say I'd scare
my younger self
Wouldn't recognize,
or even know how to reply
to the sight of things
Paranoia creepin' in
Might have to do with,
all that research I been readin'
Either tricks are being played
Or something is amiss
in the way you treat me...
Jun 18, 2024
Jun 18, 2024 at 3:51 AM UTC
I'm neither the mirror nor the reflection
I'm neither the presence nor the absence
I'm neither the fool nor the sage
I'm neither the seeker nor the finder
and
I'm neither the sky nor the cage
I am someone I haven't been
since
I am somewhere in between and something unseen
But if I do know a thing
is that
I am sewing what I am with the not's that I keep clean
Jan 15, 2024
Jan 15, 2024 at 10:11 AM UTC
Tell me,
How do you walk
With all of that pain?
You move on this earth
Steady, going
For so long now
That you believe
This is
A part of you.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
It sits, quietly
Draining your will,
Your connection.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
It sits, numbing
Out feelings,
Causing friction.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
It sits, waiting
For your eviction.
𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
So locate it, banish it.
I promise you, I swear
Oh, precious one,
You'll find that 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚.
▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 2:48 PM UTC
Hiding. She's
Trying. I keep her
Confined.
Sleeping. She's
Weeping. She screams out her
Cries.
Falling. She's
Calling. There's pain in her
Eyes.
Dormant. She's
Latent. She feels
Paralyzed.
Shifting. She's
Drifting. But I keep her
Inside.
Uneasy. She's
Queasy. Yet I
Minimize.
Refracted. She's
Lasted. She cant be
Denied.
Bleeding. She's
Seeking. To be
Recognized.
Unwitting. I'm
Splitting. I say my
Goodbyes.
Heating. It's
Fleeting. My old peace of
Mind.
Conquered. I'm
Anchored. I'm treading
Neck-high.
Drowning. Heart
Pounding. My sight going
Blind.
Vehement. Not
Present. I am losing my
Pride.
Engaging. I'm
Raging. She's loud from
Inside.
Neurotic. I'm
seasick. From pain left
Behind.
Messy. We're
Heavy. There's blood on our
Lies.
Damage. I
Manage. This fall from up
High.
Numbness. Crave
Oneness. This banal state,
Mine.
Transgressing. Keep
shedding. And I'll find her
Smile.
Uplifting. Deep
Thinking. I tame what is
Wild.
Releasing and healing
My own inner-child.
☼ Mica Light
Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 6:32 PM UTC