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.

MY MIND IS NEVER STILL

My mind is never still.

Always searching for answers.

The continuous quest to solve problems goes on.

Blinding questions and tempting solutions,

bring me deeper still, to the undetermined means.

Circles of information dance lazily together to form no actual meaning.

No peace for a whirlwind of thoughts; stillness does not reside.

Countless ideas resound quietly, waiting for the approval of time.

The focus of the day is far from thought.

My mind is never still.

ACTIONS OF HOMELESSNESS

Thrown into a new world

Hurled into the hunger of many types

Cursed with poverty

Choked with tears of emptiness

Craved belonging to somewhere

Painful loneliness without hope

Pulsing fear of no change

Crushed dreams of yesterday

Crashing realization of homelessness

Rushing pain of hunger

Numbing memories fading away

Lost time and mistakes etched in stone.

Across the United States, 675,000 people are homeless on any given night.

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.