#struggleswithin
The streets stretch empty,
silent but for my footsteps—
rhythmic, restless,
kicking pebbles that go nowhere,
like me.
Smoke curls from my lips,
a ghostly whisper dissolving
before it can answer
the questions I never say aloud.
The night doesn’t scare me—
I’ve made peace with shadows,
with streetlights flickering like old dreams.
But the darkness inside?
That’s a beast with my name on its tongue.
I walk faster,
as if the wind might strip me clean,
as if somewhere ahead,
there’s a version of me
who knows how to stop running.
But for now,
I take another drag,
watch the ember burn,
and keep moving.
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 1:37 AM UTC
He sits on the cold pavement,
back against the world,
eyes lost in a sky too vast,
too indifferent to a boy
who once dreamed of touching it.
The cigarette flickers between his fingers,
a quiet rebellion, a silent scream.
Smoke coils like memories—
of failures, of love lost,
of roads that led nowhere.
Maybe this is all there is—
a tired soul, an empty night,
a battle no one sees.
Then, a voice—soft yet firm.
"Got a light?"
He looks up, startled.
A stranger, wrapped in the wind,
eyes carrying storms of their own.
"You look like a man
who’s been running from himself,"
the stranger says, lighting his own cigarette.
"But the thing about running—
it never gets you anywhere."
A pause. A knowing glance.
"Maybe it’s time you walked instead."
The words settle like embers in his chest.
For the first time in a long time,
he exhales without regret.
The cigarette burns,
but tonight, so does something else—
a spark, a reason.
He stands up,
dusts off the weight of yesterday,
and starts walking forward
Feb 28, 2025
Feb 28, 2025 at 1:42 AM UTC