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like a car crash,
explosions fill
my head

emotional wreckage—
thoughts tangled
in dread

am i the problem?
or are they
projecting
instead?

i let go
of the wheel

just to
feel something—

go off the rails,
’cause sanity
feels surreal.

am i the problem?
or just
trapped in
my head?

because dealing
with this

is harder
than i ever
imagined.
inspired by Story of the Year’s “Take the Ride,”

this poem unpacks the moments when self-reflection spirals into self-blame.
it’s about losing control—mentally, emotionally—and wondering if the crash was your fault...

or if you were set up to break.

for anyone who's ever asked, "is it me?"

this one's for you.
waking up  
in a haze,  

state of delirium—  
where am i at?  

i look in the  
mirror and see  
a reflection  

of someone  
i used to know.  

i need a place  
to escape—  

all i wanted  
was to protect  
my peace  

and be safe.  

the waves  
come and go,  

emotional  
instability,  
barreling toward  
insecurity:  

here i go.  

all i wanted  
was only love—  
but that was  
taken away,  

and i’m left  
with all  
the blame.  

you say  
i broke you  
down—  

but all i  
ever wanted  

was to build  
us up—  

and the  
foundation  
was shaky  
ground.  

waking up  
in a haze,  

i fight  
to stay awake.  

please, god,  
let the rain  
wash away—  

and take away  
my pain.  

because i  
don’t want  
to go another day  

getting  
carried  
away.
A raw plea from inside the storm.

WASH AWAY THE PAIN is a desperate cry for release—when love breaks, and you're left staring at your reflection, wondering what went wrong.

This one’s for anyone who’s ever begged the sky for peace and prayed the rain could rinse the heart clean.

If you’ve ever felt like the weight of healing might break you—this poem gets it.

It bleeds, begs, and breaks—but it’s honest.
call me,
tell me
how i wronged
you—

paint me
as the villain,

but we’re both
living in sin.

you take this
like an attack,
like i’ll let you
down

one
last
time.

but listen—
there’s nothing
left to lose,

and no one’s
in the right
this time.

i rose
from the coffin
i buried myself in.

got tired
of searching
for miracles,

'cause all i'm
left with
are endings
gone bad.

and i’m so
**** tired

of spiraling
again.

so when
i told you
i needed space—

the last
thing
i wanted

was
to hear
from you.
third installment in a trilogy about heartbreak, confrontation, and emotional survival.

this piece is a reckoning—and a reminder: when the spiral returns, you don’t have to ride it.

inspired by story of the year’s “miracle.”
tear and thrash,
create, then crash—

no meaning left,
no faith,
just ash.

am i the only
one who feels
under the gun?

i’ve fought
for something more,

rose from flames,
still wanting more.

i’ve endured
all i could endure—

and now all i see
is blood
in my eyes.

but i’m
not giving up
yet.

i’m already broken—
but i’m not
gone.

how do i go on
when nothing feels right?

i stare into the sun
just to steal
some light.

you’re not the only one
falling from the sky—

but how can i be strong
when you keep
singing goodbye?
inspired by Story of the Year’s 'How Can We Go On', this piece is about survival after collapse—when there’s nothing left to hold but your own strength. for anyone still standing, still searching, still screaming: this is for you.
take two,  
and let  
the cameras roll—  

flip the script,  
you tried to  
rewrite the blame.  

but the lens  
is cracked,  
the angles don’t lie,  

and this story  
won’t end  
the same.  

let’s move past  
the charade—  
acting only works  
until the mask  
falls away.  

we’re both  
to blame,  
but only one  
kept staging  
the pain.  

i could pretend,  
but this is  
the end—  

a close-up  
on the fallout  
of the reckless  
and the brave.  

take two—  
lights,  
camera,  
reaction.  

this is my scene  
now,  
my cut,  
MY flame.  

and you  
can’t steal  
the spotlight  
from me  
again.
A lyrical burn letter for the ones who rewrite history but forget who's holding the mic now.

I’m not stuck in your story. I’m filming my own. 🎬
tired of the  
same old ways,  

i try to  
kick it back—  
explain:  

sometimes the  
world is cold.  

you didn’t ask  
for this,  
but it’s  
always been  
this way.  

you had everything—  
then lost it  
the next day.  

you take a step  
back,  
look up  
to the sky,  

watching blue  
turn gray  
without a reason why.  

melancholy sunshine,  
rays of light  
fading away,  

like the soft  
hues  
of yesterday.  

you hate this—  
and yeah,  
i know  
it’s cruel.  

but stick around  
for a few,  

it gets better—  

and it’s okay  
if it’s not  
your day.  

for all that
it's worth:

i love you,  
anyway.
inspired by Stand Atlantic’s “Love U Anyway” — this poem speaks to anyone feeling like they’re unraveling inside. sometimes all we need is someone to stay, even on the bad days. especially then.
thought you
had a good
thing goin'—

but all that's
left is
you, alone.

you spent time
finding the right one—
but the right one
never made it home.

you thought
you'd give it
one more try—

but love was
harder to chase
than fame,

and all that
remained
were fading echoes
of late-night crying.

nobody understood
you then.

nobody
understands you
now.

you think to yourself:
“when will
the next heartbreak
come around?”

you thought
you understood
modern love—

but modern love
doesn’t
understand you.
inspired by don henley’s “the boys of summer.”

this poem explores the ache of love in the modern world—

where the echoes outlast the connection.
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