The sky is on fire,
and the world holds its breath.
It bleeds out in streaks of crimson,
fingers of flame
licking the edges of clouds,
leaving behind ash that the wind cannot carry away.

It doesn’t scream.
No, it only burns
in silence,
a slow, tender rage,
as if the heavens themselves
have grown tired
of holding the weight of the stars.

We watch from below,
a chorus of small prayers
wrapped in our own fragile skin.
Some of us still believe in rain,
in the mercy of the dark,
but tonight,
the fire is too bright,
too wild,
too beautiful
to look away from.

The sky is on fire,
and I wonder if this is how
the end begins—
a blaze too beautiful to escape,
too hot to be touched.

We hold onto the night,
our hands trembling with the heat,
knowing,
somehow,
that this fire does not care
if we burn with it.

The sky is on fire,
and all we can do
is watch
as it consumes
the last of the light.

Sometimes I want to run into the sea,                                                             ­                           
                                     ­                                                                 ­                  
let the cold-water wash all over
me                                                               ­                   
                                                                ­                                                        
as the waves pull me into its
midst                                                            ­
                                                                ­                                                        
as the sand buries my feet in its
drifts                                                           ­                                             
                                                                ­                                                        
I'd open my lungs & **** the water
down                                                             ­       
                                                         ­                                                             
saltwater filling me up until I
drown                                                            ­        
                                                                ­                                                    
  I'll fall into a blackened deep
  sleep                                                         ­                                   
                                                                ­                                                      
it will wash away the secrets I
keep                                                             ­                                   
                             ­                                                                 ­                        
at the same time, it swallows me
whole                                                            ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­             
I allow it to cleanse the darkness of my
soul                                                             ­       
                                                         ­                                                     
  Cover me up with the grains of
  sand                                                          ­  
                                                              ­                                              
  making me a part of the sea & land

You fear the stars
not because of their beauty,
but because of their distance—
how they hang, unbothered,
while you remain earthbound.
They exist,
but do not need you.
Their cold light spills
like forgotten knowledge,
burning far away,
untouchable,
like the things you cannot know.

You fear their silence—
the way they look down
without speaking,
without offering comfort
or explanation.
They are too old,
too full of stories
you are not part of,
whispers of time
that do not echo
in your fleeting breath.

In the dark, you trace their patterns,
and the vastness presses
against your ribs,
reminding you of how small
you are.
How small your fears are
compared to the ones
that stretch across the void.

You fear the stars
because they are
the absence of answers,
the endlessness of questions,
and the reminder that you
are just another blink
in the night sky.

World, forget me — grind my name to dust,
Let rot reclaim and turns my blood to rust.
Strip me bare of flesh and thread,
Unmark my grave, watch as i bled.

Erase the stain where I once stood,
Bleed out my soul into the wood.
Let crows feast where memory fades,
And silence howl through empty glades.

No prayers, no plea, no tender grace,
Just darkness folding in my place.
Let time spit out my bitter taste —
A shadow lost in deeper space.

World, forget me — not in peace,
But like a curse you must release.
Like breath you choke and force away,
Like light that dies and dares not stay.

Let no one speak what I became,
Let even grief forget my name.
No myth, no ash, no twisted tree —
Just nothing left.
So let it be.