i saw a stranger sing one night.
the memory still lingers
years after the high.
mute swimmer,
a wordsmith from berlin,
brought silence and fire.

he wrote a song
about self-worth and doubt —
the kind we all wrestle,
then bury in our minds.

he’d hear his voice
softly pulsing
with each heartbeat.
instead of leaning
into the dread —
you’ll never make it
you’re worthless —
he’d counter-attack,
asking us
to push them back.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

we’d chant until
it wasn’t about him,
but about us.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.

why don’t you
shut
the ****
up.