Where are you from?
What a question...

My mind is from a place of quiet consolation,
My heart is missing.
I am forever searching for a place of belonging...
A place that perhaps might one day feel like home.

Where are you from?
If only I knew.

Memories of sunshine and joy are so far out of reach,
and coldness and ice surround me, not letting me see.
Ich will hier raus, hole mich hier endlich raus!

Ich komme aus einem Land voller Freude und Liebe,
Lande aber in der Trauer meines Kopfes.
Why is it so difficult for me to let go, to move on?
Perhaps one day, I will be able to.

Where are you from?
I do not know, but maybe I will one day...

Seeking the warmth of Love and Happiness,
I yearn for familiarity and family.
Pain and longing—I am familiar with.
Family... not so much.

Where are you from?
From sleepless nights and silent screams,
From questions left unanswered,
From a mirror that does not reflect the soul it holds.
Ich bin nicht von hier,
Doch wo ist hier, wenn alles fremd bleibt?

I build homes in dreams,
but wake up in rubble.
Still, a flicker of hope stays lit—
a whisper that somewhere, I will find my place.

Please help me find my place...

One day I might answer,
not with silence or a sigh,
but with a smile that says:
"I come from within—
from everything I've survived,
and all that I am becoming."

Building up ever so much,
not waiting for me to come back.
Home, what even does that mean?
I have nowhere that feels like home.

I look at you staring out the window
observing the sunset
taking in all the streaks of yellow, orange, and pink.
You never liked pink as a kid
I suppose we've moved past childish preferences.

Step into my life—
Rip me away with you,
Into bits you shape,
Until I’m wholly yours..

Make me wholly yours so that I won't live without you
As you'll forever be a part of me.

The poetic mind is forever troubled with questions but no answers,
Perhaps that's what draws us together
The constant unfulfillment with life as it is.

Are you looking, or just seeing
through mirrors, through windows?
Are you able to see through it all
Or are you too stuck in your head—

like me,
tracing outlines of thoughts
I’ll never say aloud.
Maybe silence is safer
than risking a world
that doesn’t echo back.

If I whispered my truth into the dusk,
Would you turn your head and listen tentatively
or shut me out like the wind.

Listen, world—
I have a voice that can shake you.
Listen here,
Do you not know my language

Or will you pretend you don’t speak
The dialect of my ache?

I grieve like it was a death,
But no one sends flowers
It slipped out quietly,
no funeral,
just echoes
where laughter used to live.

Who have I become?
a mosaic of all the people that I've ever met
filled with the sadness of my shadows.
I don’t know your face
When I pass mirrors now—

You look at me like you know me
I wonder what you recognize my soul has changed
My soul has warped into something bitter and rotten
longing for tending to
like a flower that wilts away after neglect.

If only I could reach
beyond the cracks in my skin...
...But I cannot reach
beyond the glass between us—
where my reflection waits,
And I am always just out of reach.

Patches slowly filling in,
I watch the pavement being wrapped up.
Spots of rain spitting
Against my single glazed window.

Glowing streets seem so inviting.
Warmly lit pavements giving a false hope,
A hope of calmness, like a still lake.
Opening my window, I see a stormy ocean.

You look out too, full of calm.
Warm green forest surround me,
The trees would forever give me shelter.
Turning away from you, I'm back at the window.

You run along ridges, I feel embarrassed.
Brown coiling around my fingers,
pulling me in for more.
You are silencing the storm outside.

Taking my hand, leading me away,
To show me the world I was missing out on.
A layer of linen and love keeping me safe,
You gave me a shelter from the Storm.

Blue stares at me in a crowd,
Seeing a blue that I knew lightyears ago.
Well I'd be ****** here you are again,
Offering me entry into a home I once knew.

Now you are smiling next to the window
Of the house we shared.
New curtains droop down next to a figure
The figure of evil.

Leaving you behind, a wave washes over me
Of sentimental longing or wisful affection.
Craving to have had won you,
To have saved you from the evil you are still so drawn to.

It's just that the moon is full,
And I hear a voice on the telephone that I knew lightyears ago.
Flicking the switch I cut out a part of myself.

The hurt of it ripping me in two,
The moon phases and I swim up, meters of blue still above me.
Stroke after stroke I rush to breathe.
Year after year I still pine after it.

Now I look out of the window with curtains that droop,
That droop down next to me
Throwing a dim light on a double bed