"No" lives inside my throat
Escaping only when comfortable,
not when needed

No to quests that remove me from my safe zone,
along side companions whom I love.
Yes when no is too fearful of actions of those seated higher above.
No to praise that would inflate my ego,
Yes to critique that douses all flames

"No" lives inside my throat
And she's been there since I can remember

I know that I'm healing because you tried to lash out and project your pain onto me, trying to imprint your grief on my very being.
You sought to leave a scar, a remnant of your misery to stem your own emotional bleeding.
Though I am not a vessel you may fill with your sorrows and misfortunes.
I refuse to be a pawn in your narcissistic battle ground.
In response to your toxicity, I chose kindness, for the truth is, I feel pity for you.
I empathize with any soul that thrives on their self-inflicted agony and feels the need to inflict pain upon others due to their own suffering.
I thank God that, while I am not perfect, I am kind.
I have not allowed those with ugly souls to pollute my spirit.
I will not don their hatred or their labels.
I refuse to become like them, entrenched in their own despair.
My soul reaches for the light and I will keep finding it, because I will keep seeking it.
I hope that one day you can do the same, and I send you away with peace.
I will not participate in the battle you choose to fight with yourself.
I do hope that one day you emerge victorious in the war.

-Rhia Clay

Once you taste freedom, once its beauty has settled in your heart,
you will battle with the intensity of a whole legion to protect it.
Among all treasures, liberty reigns supreme.
The freedom to love as one desires.
The freedom to love whomever one chooses.
The freedom to express oneself.
How can one genuinely love another without the liberty to do so?
For a soul brimming with determination and independence,
take away from me my freedom,
and you may as well deny me breath.

-Rhia Clay

But I’m selfish—
even with myself.
What if I no longer wish to roam?
What if I’m tired
of digging through fire
just to find a softer home?

Tell me—
what does it mean
when someone won’t let go of love,
even when it breaks their bones,
even when the sky above
has given every reason
to move on?

Not because they’re lost,
but because they chose.

Because I chose a piece—
no matter how it fits.
Even if it cuts,
I won’t call it quits.
Even if it’s sharp
and tears through my chest,
I carry it still—
because I loved it best.

It wasn’t perfect,
but it was mine somehow.
So I hold it close,
like a quiet vow.

Is happiness in seeking
what finally fits?
Or is it in keeping
what never quits?

I can’t tell
if I’m betraying my soul
or finally making myself whole.
That’s the echo I hear
in the quietest part—
not a question,
but a stubborn heart.

A name I won’t forget.
A light that won’t depart.
A feeling that lingers,
sharp and true—
and still,
I carry you.