this one is about a conversation yesterday, that made me realise that the walls between my worlds are thinner than I thought. the fact that my community is starting to glimpse this raw, stripped, layered and honest side... there is a strange exposure in that. like people reading my diary but with my permission, except it still feels… naked.

What destroys us most often is not what is done, but what is left unsaid. Families, friends, communities.. complicity thrives in silence. Every unspoken truth becomes a stone, every quiet denial a grave. This piece speaks to the deadliest accomplice of the beast: not hatred, but silence.

And yet, even within silence, the cry still trembles. It leaks through scars, through hidden eyes, through the fragile flame that refuses to die.
These words are for every soul who has lived inside that chamber, unseen but not alone.
Plumb gives voice to that cry.

What if the “cut” is not a blade at all, but truth itself--
naming the wound, naming the perpetrator,
breaking the silence that becomes a second trauma
worse than the first?
Sharp though it is, such a cut
can become the only one that heals--
the deepest relief of all...


"Cut"

I'm not a stranger
No I am yours
With crippled anger
And tears that still drip sore

A fragile flame aged
With misery
And when our eyes meet
I know you see

I may seem crazy
Or painfully shy
And these scars
wouldn't be so hidden
If you would just
look me in the eye

I feel alone here and cold here
Though I don't want to die
But the only anesthetic that
makes me feel anything kills inside

I do not want to be afraid
I do not want to die inside
  just to breathe in
I'm tired of feeling so numb

Relief exists,   I find it when

    I am cut

https://youtu.be/OJkqkWIpFAI?si=hMaAlmoUB_OnEoOG


Better the wound of truth than the grave of silence;

To those who have carried the weight of numbness,
Plumb’s voice  becomes
their own cry of solidarity

xoxo

Hello, everyone.
I'm new around here and I'm already in love with this place.
Anyways, when I wrote this poem, it wasn’t out of clarity but out of weight.  I felt the world pressing in from every side, too broken, too loud, too indifferent. The lines came almost on their own, like breaths I had been holding for too long. Some of them are shadows, some are sparks, but all of them are pieces of what I couldn’t keep silent anymore. (kind of rhymes)

I can all try to express with honesty how I felt in that moment: restless. Writing this was my way of surviving the unspeakable, of giving shape to the silence. If these words sound dark, it’s because sometimes the truth is dark, but even within that darkness, I believe a poem itself is proof of light.

Trauma builds with silence as mortar. Each unspoken truth becomes a stone in the wall, each careful smile a tower that hides what festers inside.

From the outside, the fortress looks strong.. even admirable. But within its walls, the beast remains untouched. This piece speaks to the architecture of denial: how families, communities, even whole societies build fortresses that protect appearances while sacrificing souls.

And to those who build their fortresses of silence, who entrench themselves in deception and call it strength.. this is for you. There are battles that words alone cannot soften, and for those battles the posture is Headstrong.

This is where the silence ends. The fortress you defend cannot heal, and the fight you dismiss as madness will not bow to your walls.

For those who choose to be self-entrenched.. who make the fortress their stronghold, hiding behind its ramparts a counterfeit “strength” built from the empty pit of unresolved years, dressing up brick and mortar to conceal the hollowness within.. this song is for you--


"Conclusions manifest
Your first impressions
got to be your very best

I see you're full of ****
and that's alright
That's how you play,
I guess you get through every night..

Well, now that's over

I see your fantasy
You wanna make it a reality
paved in gold
See inside, inside of our heads, yeah
Well, now that's over"

I see your motives inside
Decisions to hide

https://youtu.be/hYW5iD6eqM8?si=ye8lzLVMbRkPE63Q


This is not where you belong.
The fortress cannot stand forever

The child will outlast the walls.
Selah

xo

This is a revised version of a poem I originally wrote at 15—updated 10 years later. Hopefully, it reads a little better now. Both carry the same heart, the same message, but not the same weight—because time, growth, and pain have added density to the second one.

I never believed in the law of detachment - until it became my story