She is strong
She pulled herself through strong winds,
Roots gripping the earth, refusing to break.
She survived with little care,
Drinking from the silence,
Holding on when no hands reached out.

She never complained about the thirst,
Welcoming the sun, even when it burned.
She learned to bloom in shadows,
Happy with the little attention she received.

She stayed, even when neglected,
Spreading fresh air to breathe,
A silent companion when no one else was around.
A quiet strength, unseen yet unwavering.

She stopped withering away.
She adapted.
She grew.
She became more than survival—
She became life itself.

Just when I thought things were getting better
You snap.
A twist in words
Or slip in tone

And snap.

A word misheard,
Or left unsaid
Or said
Because either could make you

Snap

I never knew what to say
Or not,
And when or where

Dancing to the tune of your voice
Slower here,
Gentler there.
Always cautious,
Hovering over the faint line of
Pain or love.

Heavy handed return
Bitter and selfish
Butter and shellfish

No reason in rhyme
No meaning in time

Let it all burn.

I hate how long its taking
for this world to realize
that beauty is everything.
"Work hard, and you'll be successful"
is what they say.
"Be beautiful, and everything will work out for you."
is what they should say.

And no,
No one gives a ****
on how many sleepless nights you spent
hating yourself.
On how hard you tried.
On how well you understood.
On how much you compromised.
Because you are what you always will be;
Unworthy, unloved
and
Ugly.

As a poet,
I have some
sort of “sickness”.
A “disease” that
makes me cough
cold, raw, inky words.
It forms sentences
you never heard
out of me before.

On endless hours
of sitting in a
room alone,
my throat
hurts so badly.
Someone sliced it
open with a knife—
I lost my broken voice
in the process—
But not my soul

I rewind
and play that
sentence
repeatedly
in my mind,
like a cassette tape—
And every
word of it
hurts.

Most times,
I feel it’s a
dramatic act.
I don’t know
what’s real
or what’s not,
there’s a knot
in my stomach.
Tapes distorted,
voices corrupted
them—

“We care about you—”
wHeRE aRe YoU—
“Where have you been—”
wE MisS yOu—
“Please come back—”
“We WaNt you BaCk—*

We all want you back…