The wolves pursue in starving packs,
Their howls a hymn to midnight’s mark.
But I have learned the art of flight,
To guard my small, defiant spark.

I stumble into serpents’ coils,
Their venom laced in silken art.
They hiss, they weave, they pierce with lies—
Yet cannot touch my steadfast heart.

A cut so deep it cries for stitches,
Blood flows like sorrow on my face.
It stains my hands, it burns my soul,
Yet I bear it with a silent grace.

I call it failure—but not defeat,
A bruise I wear, a lesson earned.
The fire may scald, the thorns may bite,
Still, toward my goal, my spirit turns.

The flowers bloom in quiet pride,
as if the earth has turned to bride.
The wind, in silken celebration,
spins the air with sweet elation.

Cherry blossoms, soft and bright,
blush like hearts in morning light.
And wisteria, draped with care,
hangs like jewels in nature’s hair.

Your hair band arcs—a tender bow,
a rainbow resting soft and low.
And in your gaze, a season sings:
a sky of light, a soul with wings.

You twinkle, graceful, wild, and free—
the very breath of spring to me.
Not just a season passing through—
you are the bloom my spirit knew.

It doesn’t rain —
it weeps through a broken mask,
the sky unzipping its stitched-up grief
and letting sorrow bleed down like silk.

Rain drips like rosary beads
counting sins backwards,
washing blood from sidewalks
but not from time.

Animals whisper first —
fur quivering with prophecy.
Dogs howl at ghosts we pretend aren’t there.
Cats dissolve into shadow
like smoke slipping through cracks in logic.

People sleep,
wrapped in their own warmth,
not knowing the storm outside
is the Earth mourning itself.

Some cry beneath the clouds.
Some grin like broken clocks.
Some dissolve —
quiet as paper in water.

They say every night ends —
but not every soul waits long enough
to see the ink fade.
Some vanish,
not because they gave up —
but because the veil closed too tight.

And no one reads
the pages they became.

Above, the clouds convene in grief,
So swollen, seeking some relief.
I raise my voice into the hush:
“What sorrow stirs this tender crush?”

And still, I say—cry if you must.
Tears are not treason. Winds are trust
I will not flinch beneath your pain;
Let sorrow fall. Let go. Let rain.

The sky turns green—a fevered hue,
As grief consumes both me and you.
But I will stand, though tempests call—
Your witness, shield, your quiet wall.

So storm, beloved, break and seethe.
I’ll hold the line. I will not leave.
When all your strength has come undone,
I’ll stay,
until
your light returns.

The water winds through cracks it calls its own,
Unmoved by stone, yet shaped by every line.
A path unseen, by silent current sown,
Its flow suggests a fate both firm, divine.

With you I walk, through storm and burning sky,
Our footprints carved in earth that tried to break.
Though shadows stretch, we lift our heads up high,
And kindle light no darkness dares to take.

If ever pain should pull you far below,
I'll dive where even sorrow fears to tread.
Through waves that crash, through undertow and woe,
I’ll swim until your heart finds shore instead.

The dream we chase lies just beyond the blue—
A breath, a step—and we’ll arrive as two.

I fell in an ocean—
not of my choosing,
not with a map or a promise of shore.
Just silence,
cold,
and the weight of everything I never deserved.

A shark came—
of course it did.
Pain always smells the softest hearts.
It circled, snapped,
tried to tear the light from my chest.
But I—I thrashed.
I bled, yes.
But I fought.

I am not the daughter of their dreams.
I am not a trophy in their pride parade.
I am the storm they never saw coming—
quiet, scarred, and still standing.

Why do the unkind smile
while the kind drown?
I don’t know.
But I know this:
I’ve carried pain
like a secret blade
and I’ve used it
to carve my own path
through the dark.

Now, I release it.
I leave the rest to God—
the judgment, the justice,
the why-me, the why-not.

Because I’m proud of my scars.
They’re not weakness.
They’re proof.

That I survived the ocean.
That even when the world tried to eat me—
I refused to disappear.