Life is beautiful but
Would the wind whisper love in my ear
When I am hanging there?

Life is short but
Would the sea hug me
Or would it just erase my name?

Life is exciting but
Would the fire make my heart warm
Or would it burn my memories?

Pain is temporary but
Would the pills heal my unloved heart
And would my blood paint my life-story?

Everything will be fine but
Will the floor kiss me passionately
Or will it break my heart even more?

I already tried, I took silver liquid
And combined it with strawberry milk
But it did more bad than worse

Will my parents be so proud
If I lay there in a pretty dress?

I beg for understanding
   But I can't even figure out myself

I crave recognition
   But do nothing worthy

I'm desperate to be seen
        But my own vision is clouded

Feels like I won’t fit anywhere,
not in rooms, not in hearts, not even in air.
Like I was born out of place,
a wrong note in a song no one dares to play.

Feels like I am not worth anything,
not a glance, not a second, not a kind word.
Just a shadow walking through noise,
an empty chair no one remembers to miss.

Feels like I’m a burden,
a silent load they carry with gritted teeth.
Their kindness feels like mercy,
not love. Just tolerance. Just time ticking.

Feels like God made a mistake
when He placed me in my mother’s womb.
Like He flinched when He saw me forming,
like He whispered, “Not her,” but it was too late.

Feels like He regrets it every day,
watching me stumble in a skin that never fit,
watching me ache for meaning
in a world that turns away from my voice.

Feels like I should end it myself,
not to escape, but to give peace to them.
To stop being the sigh in their silence,
the tear they hide, the guilt they carry.

Feels like if I leave,
the sun might shine softer,
the room might feel lighter,
and no one would have to pretend anymore.

Under the green splendor
of duckweed, the sun turns
away, fish disappear

natural
wonderful balance
of the night

the bed-warm water filter
of silver and silky
black feelings

the parasite flowers
on the waves of ebb and flow
under the large autumn moon

and my love is rolling
back and forth between friends
and lost

Act 1- The Urge
I want to scream.
But—
Instead I write,
The things I cannot say.

Act 2- The Tension
Silence.
My words are
Tearing
At these pages,
Trying to get out.
Freed.

Act 3- The Ache
Desperation—
Between every line
And pause.
Waiting,
Wanting,
To be seen,
To be heard,
Felt.

I don’t really like who I am when I’m next to my friends,
I feel someone else every time I close the living room door in my apartment.

My mom’s at home.
I can’t recognize how I act when I’m living with my family,
If I lock the bathroom door, I feel myself now.

How can I be someone else when I’m still the person I am in any situation?
How can I feel myself when I’m alone if that means no one’s watching?
Does it mean no one is ever gonna know who I am?

Who will I be when I meet someone new?
Who will talk about me with sureness?

I still lock the doors of any room I’m in.

I can feel it — faint, confined.
It's still there, but undefined.
Just suppressed,
and drugged to rest,
by a pill I couldn’t mind.

My brain won’t think, it slips, it stalls.
Like echoing in padded halls.
It’s wrong, it’s still,
it bends my will —
the silent weight that gently falls.

Traces of fear, of thought, of grace,
drift like mist through a flooded place.
I sense, not live,
no flame to give —
just shadows I can’t face.

Like perfume trails that softly cling —
of fear, of love, of everything.
They haunt, they stay,
but fade away —
as if beneath a wing.

They’re trapped inside, they do not spill.
All smothered
by that morning pill.
It crushed the tide,
the storm, the chill —
the scream I couldn’t will.

In the creases of my heart, I sit alone.
Feeling the waves of life hit as soothing as snow.
My husk feels hollow, as though I am melted to the bones.
Above me are clouds of darkness and thunder,
moving as silent as the despair through my blood.
I look at the journey afar to just catch a glimpse—
a glimpse of the promised life that seems a lie so far.

Do you see her?
A quiet smile, steady and calm,
like sunlight on glass.
warm—
but with shadows beneath.

Do you see her?
How she takes a deep breath,
pulls her coat tight,
Steps out into the cold,
where the world awaits.

Do you really see her?
The gentle glow she carries,
even when darkness lingers,
how she offers light,
without asking for it back.

Do you séé her?
The parts she keeps hidden .
Not broken, just quiet,
waiting for the right moment—
to speak.

So, do you see her?
All of her?