I breathe, but it burns—
like lungs weren’t made for sorrow this thick.
Tears come easier than air these days.
I wasn't anyone's center,
just orbiting lives that never noticed my pull.
An add-on. An afterthought. A ghost in a lit room.

I sit in circles and feel like a stranger,
a silhouette in family photos,
laughter echoing through me, never into me.
I don’t fit in this world,
not in the noise of my friends,
not in the silence of my home,
not even in the mirror.

They say I’m here for a reason.
But I search for it like a lost key
in a locked room.

I think I’m a failure,
as a daughter with a voice unheard,
a sister who forgot how to smile,
a lover whose heart never made it back whole.
And now even my books feel heavier than grief.
Every page whispers, not enough.

I’m failing in every ******* thing,
and yet, I wake up again.
I hope death comes slowly,
not because I chase it,
but because I’m tired of running from it.

And if it ever finds me,
I hope that for once,
I don’t have to fail at that too.

I came on silver wings,
drifting past dying stars,
hoping to find a world soft enough
to call my own.

I saw blue first,
a planet breathing,
wrapped in mist and promise.
I thought, maybe here—
maybe here I could stay.

But then—
the silence of women swallowed whole,
voices drowned in laws not their own.
Skin held as a currency,
love twisted into a crime.
The ones in power, chosen by fear,
speak with empty mouths
and call it truth.

I watched men sharpen their edges
on the backs of women,
their laughter carving scars,
their hands taking without asking.

The food—
not food at all, but ghosts of what once was,
pumped with things that do not belong.
The trees fall,
not from time,
but from greed’s impatient hands.

And I wonder,
do they not see the world turning brittle?
Do they not hear the earth gasping?

I do not understand your wars,
your hunger for more,
the way you cage each other
and call it freedom.

I only feel it—
the ache of something wrong,
an unraveling, a sickness,
a grief I do not have a name for.

I did not come to be a witness
to a planet choosing its own end.
I came looking for home,
but this—
this is not a place to stay.

So I turn away,
silver wings catching starlight,
searching for a world
that remembers how to be kind.