I Lost Her in the Quiet

I had my own choices
once,
in a new and unfamiliar world.

I was allowed to speak —
to name my fears,
to listen to the quiet alarms inside me.

Then something larger moved in.

A force.
A season.
A life stage.
A voice that wasn’t mine.

Maybe a bully.
Maybe time.
Maybe I still don’t know
what the hell happened.

I only know
I lost her.

Buried under expectations,
under survival,
under a pile of things I never chose
but learned to carry.

Is this it?

Fighting every day
to keep the peace
with too many branches pulling at me —

while secretly
wanting to burn the whole damn tree
just to see what’s left standing.

From the Pieces

The pieces lie scattered at my feet.

Please—
do not hand them to me.

Let me reach for them
when I am ready.

Do not give up on me yet.
I am still here.

I will learn the shape of what broke.
I will take my time
sorting what can be kept,
what must be reimagined.

Do not sweep them away.
Do not hide them.
Do not decide their fate for me.

The mess is mine.
I own every fragment before me.

There is strength in these hands—
enough to build
from what remains.

And if time runs thin,
if the clock dares to stop,
I will still do this—

making something truer,
something stronger,
from the pieces
on the ground.

Beginning or End

On the hill above the town,

where every street still knows her name, she stands with a bottle of water twisting the cap as the past flickers below.

The town that raised her. The streets that shaped her. The life she once fit into.

She stills herself, as if motion alone might decide everything.

The sky deepens. Evening holds its breath.

For a moment, she lets go of every story she’s carried— every expectation, every weight mistaken for destiny.

Darkness comes, not as an ending, but as a pause.

A surrender to not knowing.

Is this the beginning, or the end— or the quiet space
where choosing finally becomes possible?

I WILL DIE HERE

The walls tell me lies; I am unsure if I exist outside them anymore. Like a caged animal, I sit here inside myself, just wondering.

When I am done wondering, I start over again. The endless loop of misery, keeps me bound.

If it does not end soon, I will die here.

The cloud is heavy; it hurts; I can feel the pain physically and mentally; you don't have to believe me; I know what I think.

I see the people who pass, a blur of help, a taste of hope. It will take more than a mighty sword to save me; I will die here.

I am not sure what I am so sad about; I forget my personality and live in the shadow of my former self. How will I get out of here?

If I don't get out of here, I will die here.

I AM GOING TO BUT I SHOULDN'T

I am up for it, I really want it, I have prepared for it

Only doing what I need to do

Only wanting to get over this hump

I want to look amazing

I want to cry, fall into a hole

I want to be confident

I want to be healthy and uncontrollable

If good or bad, life spins us around.

There is no winning Just being

IN ALL MY DAYS

In all my days, I want to have peace.

In all my days, I want to have joy.

In all my days, I want to have honesty.

In all my days, I want to have faith.

In all my days, I want to have power.

In all my days, I want to have me.

TAKE ME HOME

There is a place where you can be nowhere.

I sit here, in nowhere, asking for existence.

I have prayed, screamed, and cried

There is a place where you can not exist

Concealed in the vapors of my mind

My body awaits to go home.

SOLACE

Don't enter into infliction with your eyes shut. Allow for one to experience all senses of damnation and power.

Cross the path of your own demons, one by one, and take them on as individual entities.

The solace you receive is compared to the harsh torments you leave behind.

Choose carefully ont; thiso where your battleground is placed. Empty your weapons slowly and with content.

Bend to the power of extinguished pain, this is your moment to start healing inside.

Celebrate your victories, badge your woes, and live in your memories; they only live in you, not for you.

ANSWERS INTO LIFE

I cried answers into my life.

My fists crashed into the wall,

Then slamming into the floor.

The pain brings existence to my being.

Voices of future hopes echo.

Almost like, they are from the past.

Passages between a now that does not exist

I ache the realization I have to ask.

Grace me with a peace I seek.

Exit to make room for light

I could now scream, for I know.

How to become at a standstill

I cried answers into my life.

Not recommended but needed

No more diversions to hell

Stand tall and let it be

TAKING CARE

Cold, wet and hungry

Dirty, sick and thirsty

Sad, weak and thin

Homeless with no name

One voice, one hand

Two voices, Two hands

Many hearts, many souls

Homeless with a name

THE ROOM WILL STILL EXIST

Depression is Manageable

I have to unlock this door; the latch is rusty, the hinges are weak, and the door is soaked with tears.

My hand shakes with fear; I tremble at the thought of entering. The small, damp, dark room on the other side frightens me. The small space is soundproof, and I fear the door will close behind me, and I will be locked in.

I know it is soundproof; I was locked behind its door in that room, and no one came when I called for help. A silent scream for help was never heard.