Tag: sadness

how

how is one meant to cry
if the tears refuse to fall?

how is one meant to smile
if the pain is too much?

how is one meant to push
if the burden is too heavy?

how is one meant to shine
if the rain doesn’t stop?

how is one meant to grow
if the room is too small?

how is one meant to love
if the heart is cracked?

how is one meant to speak
if the words remain silent?

how is one meant to wait
if the train is moving?

how is one meant to heal
if the wound is too deep?

how is one meant to continue
if the desire is gone?

it will repeat.

i stare at it,
ringing as if i am still asleep,
desperately trying to wake me
for another day.

i scan my badge,
wearing a mask
riddled with cracks
as the clock ticks slowly.

i drive home,
music blasting
but my thoughts sit in silence,
endlessly replaying in their yard.

i get inside,
my mind static
as i wait for my body to collapse,
accepting sleep like it’s the only ending
i will receive.

all to repeat it over again,
the same cycle as
yesterday,
today,
and tomorrow.

🎂

the clock reaches twelve,
like it’s been waiting all year
to do this to me.

no candles,
no voices filled with song,
just the wind stinging my cheeks.

my birthday ends,
and nothing arrives with it.

the quiet invites itself in,
so heavy it knocks the air out of me,
louder than any wish i never said out loud.

a single tear slips free-
warm, unannounced,
as if my body understood before i did.

this is the moment
where hope stops pretending-
where endings are finished.

the past feels distant now,
names erased by time,
memories thinning like old photographs left in the sun

i don’t argue anymore-
i just listen
as the clock ticks.

and in that stillness,
i finally understand.

this was the sign-
the last one i needed.

🔌

hollowed out and quiet,
the days are just rooms
i walk through
because the doors happen to be open.

there is no gold at the end of the hall,
no sudden light,
just the steady hum of the furnace
and the shadows stretching
at four in the afternoon.

i am a vessel with the plug pulled,
light as a dried leaf,
floating not because i have a destination,
but because the air is moving
and i am still here to be moved.

no mountain to climb,
no breath to catch,
no star to shine.

just the slow, gray peace
of existing
without needing a reason why.

my story

i wake with a similar pain,
an aching jolt that reminds me
the world will not be kind
for free.

the page feels heavy,
the ink as tired as i am-
like each word has to drag itself
out of a pit.

a soft breeze accompanies me,
flipping the pages with ease
as i stand by and watch,
astonished by the feat.

once it settles,
i place my hand on the next line
and feel the weight shift,
feel the story pulse beneath my palm-
steady and warm
like a heartbeat i had forgotten was mine.

the breeze returns once more,
and this time,
it wraps around my hand,
lingering, patient,
sitting with me as i begin the next chapter
in a story i have ignored for too long.

and so,
with the page open
and the air on my side,
i begin my story.

✍️

some days,
the pencil is like a stone-
heavy and unmoving
as the paper remains empty.

my mind wanders,
seeking out the passion
and emotions i tend to embrace,
but they are gone
just like the words scattered
amongst the stars.

i attempt to speak
but my mouth is dry,
craving water like i crave happiness.

all the words i want to say
are stuck in my throat,
waiting for their moment-
choking me instead.

i need my strength,
not to write,
but to be Me again.

it remains

it keeps knocking,
begging to come in
and introduce itself.

introduce itself as peace,
as a new way to sing
in a world of silence.

silence that echoes
through the halls,
numbing to the mind.

numbness that will disappear,
but never stay quite gone
as the roof begins to crack.

the cracks scatter
and foundation cries,
unable to withstand the weight.

the weight of it all,
crashing down with force,
leaving only the door.

the door,
in which the knocking
continues.