Have peace after the burning bridge
Understandable yet unacceptable
Rest comfortably while I’m in hell,
Tearing my body, mind, and soul apart

Hurt (Poetry Series): I, II, III
Header image: Maxim Tajer.
Have peace after the burning bridge
Understandable yet unacceptable
Rest comfortably while I’m in hell,
Tearing my body, mind, and soul apart

Hurt (Poetry Series): I, II, III
Header image: Maxim Tajer.
The world moved on long ago
I’m still too far behind
Why am I still like this, though?
I’m honestly not fine
My gentle smile’s just for show
My fuel’s in decline
Is time moving fast or slow?
I’m honestly not fine
The world has forgiven me
But I still feel maligned
I can’t move on and be free
I’m honestly not fine
My heart is in constant ache
The sun still couldn’t shine
I’m still stuck with my mistakes
I’m honestly not fine

Header image: Simon Robben of Pexels. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.
What I truly dislike is when people tell me not to cry.
I’m quite aware that not every problem can be fixed, and everyone makes mistakes. But whether that problem can be fixed, or I end up crying over spilled milk, I should be allowed to shed tears. I learned a long time ago that I can’t just bottle up my sorrow and anger, and I need to express myself (not in a destructive way, of course) to feel catharsis, to feel better. To certain people, why am I not allowed to cry?
If I’m not allowed to cry in a place that I thought to be safe, fuck that shit. Maybe I should look for a safer space elsewhere. And if I can’t find another safe space, it’s a good thing I have The Diary.
One more day before my birthday.
Ω
A part of 14 Days of The Deranged Writer (2025).
Header image: Hans of Pixabay. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.