TRIGGER WARNING: Self-Harm/Anxiety/Suicide
I’m on the brink of letting myself go. I’ve thrown self-care out the window, my motivation for music and writing is at its lowest, and my insomnia and anxiety seem to be in a race to see which can make me lose my mind first.
Continue reading Life and other dark stuff
Like how the flowers bloom
and wilt in different hands,
we become the way we are
through endless breaks and bends.
Like how some wish upon the stars
for just another chance,
we have been the way we are
and will be til the very end.
Maybe home is when I lay my head in your lap
When our minds connect no matter where on the map
Small dreams of proximity, no room for gaps
Holding tight to our sanity as life laid its traps
Continue reading Pigeons
In this world, there is an abundance of things that we fall in love with, be it a person or an inanimate object. But for many like myself, self-love has been, and always will be, the most hardest love of all.
Continue reading Reflecting on self-love
As the night envelopes me in a sense of security, and the rest of the world slips into a dreamless sleep, the air around me freezes in anticipation as I search for your name in the abyss. Crushing devastation never fully catches the essence of how I feel when, time and time again, my hands come up empty, laced with hope and other brief moments of the past I had unearthed from down under.
Continue reading Looking for you at 4:33am
Around the neighborhood is a poem about a failed, toxic relationship, a subject many people can relate to. It is inspired by my own experiences.
Your finger traced the lines of her palm/so gentle her walls came crashing down/Quivering, she laid there naked, unarmed/Covered in goosebumps, cold and brown
Continue reading RE: Around the neighbourhood
When I was a child, I was wrapped so safely and tightly in the bubble my overprotective parents created for their children that, while I was well aware of the dangers that young girls and grown women faced in the world, I never had to feel the shame and violation women all around me felt. Or so I thought.
Continue reading A Lifetime of Harassment