Am I suffering beautifully?
Do I wear my agony like a crown?
Adorn it with pearls and jewels,
And parade it into town?

Is my pain reasonable enough?
Do I raise it up or tone it down?
I’ll try to cry pretty, tiny tears,
In fact, I'd do it in my gown!

For even in despair, I should be desirable,
Dare not to be emotional, dare not to make a sound.
To be a woman is to bleed, but glamorously.
There shall be glitters in the meltdown.

at dusk, and for a brief moment
i sat at the edge of the setting sun
a single breath away from unravelling
because the universe had conspired against me
and the goddess, whom i loved
was nowhere to be found.

A life of many,
A life of not.
To know any,
To know rot.
I have seen,
for what I have not.
I have done to know,
That I cannot.
Escape my rage,
For I have wrot,
Is my own cage.
A nightmare,
That I broken.
A sage of mirrors,
For I have sought.
No reflection,
No dedication,
Anything I have knot.
Everything is futile,
For it is eternally mine.

From the first breath I’ve drawn,
I’ve sought for mountains to climb,
Oceans to swim.
Digging through patches of dirt,
without an end in sight.
An endless persecution for breathing.
Lingering, coasting, and wasting away.

Galavanting with thoughts of an end,
Lost in the forest of trees.
Sinking deep in the ocean of blues.
Strolling beneath a sunless sky.
I was convinced this lifetime was meant to be brief-
Filled with agonizing adventures made to be savored.
Bound to happiness that was evanescent,
slipping away before I could ever fully grasp it.

A future deprived of certainty,
Where nothing awaits.
A garden where nothing grew,
Empty of yearning.
My end awaited me,
and the sentiment was mutual.
Tears blurred my vision as I bowed to defeat;
Whispers of the first ripple of conflict.

Perhaps if my mind were sharper,
they’d see worth in my words.
If I bent to serve the world,
maybe I’d earn a place.
If beauty clung to me like air,
they might drown just to feel me.
But as I am-
a shadow with a pulse-
I am seen, but never held.
If I were anyone but me-
maybe then, I’d matter.

Glimpses of light at the very end of a never ending tunnel,
It beams of longing-
shining with promises of a future never meant to be mine to hold.

But even shadows stretch toward the sun,
and somewhere beneath the ache,
a pulse still fights to be felt.
Maybe-
just maybe-
I am not made to be vanished.
This breath is not the end,
but the beginning of becoming.
I can still burn.
Still become.
Not despite the chaos,
But because of it.

Three cheers for broken things!
Those who god rapes
and what the cat brings
inside causing screams. The last laugh.
Reduced to a shocking object;
denied personal being, a personal hell,
alone, touched by shadows.
All shadows imply light.
Torture of existence transforms to bliss.
Taken request, now give it a kiss.
See and be seen.
Be vulnerable, be keen to love the ugly.
Cringing dancing singing -
Obscene wisdom, divine pain:
Dominion of fate.
Tainted blood yet the soul won't stain.

I am the Pisces, suffocating beneath the weight of my own sorrow.
You watch as I fight against waves that crush the will from my bones,
A fish whose scales are heavy with despair,
Whose heart is a shattered thing, lost in the vast, unforgiving deep.
Each breath I take is a revolt against this abyss,
But each breath is a futile attempt to resist the inevitable.

You call my name, beg me to stay—
But the current is merciless, pulling me into the blackened void.
I swim in circles, drowning in a silence that devours,
As the water fills my lungs with its cold, endless ache.
The world above is a distant, forgotten dream,
One I can no longer reach, no longer want.

I am the Pisces, swallowed whole by my own darkness,
A soul unraveling beneath the surface.
Your hands cannot break the tide,
For I have already surrendered.
It is too late. The ocean has claimed me.

The plate sits before me, brimming with light,
Yet I cannot partake in this feast of life.
The hunger is not born of flesh,
But a deep, gnawing void that swallows the soul.

It’s not that I lack—
But I recoil from the feast,
For each bite is a confrontation,
A war within my own skin,
An agonizing surrender to the unknown.

The world, a banquet of joy and color,
Serves me courses of hope and grace,
But I cannot consume what is offered.
Each morsel of love, each chance for joy,
I push away,
As if to touch it would fracture me further,
Unravel what little control I still feign to hold.

I starve not for food,
But for the courage to feast on life,
To swallow what is real,
Without fear that it will choke me,
Without fear that it will swallow me whole.

In the quiet spaces of my mind,
I am a ghost,
Floating above this world I once craved.
I am too numb to reach,
Too paralyzed to feel the warmth of the sun,
And so I exist—
Not living, not dying,
But simply suspended in this vast, unyielding void,
Where every dream is a phantom,
Every hope a cruel illusion,
And I am forever starving,
Yet unable to taste the life I’ve lost.

I have these complicated feelings
they unfurl in my chest
begging to be let out
I release them from the ribcage
with a pen and paper
my poems are their escape
it makes me feel lighter
like happiness can fill me
instead of the dark curling tendrils
of despair