Month: May 2025

The Departed

Before you judge the soul who fell,
They may have lived a private hell.
Perhaps they cried, but none could hear,
Or reached for help that wasn’t near—
And gone too soon, the departed.

They bore the weight of cruel disdain,
Mocked and broken, scarred by pain.
Betrayed by those they held as true,
With nothing left to cling onto—
And gone too soon, the departed.

Behind closed doors, they hid their cries,
Masked their hurt with hollow lies.
Each smile a shield, each laugh a mask,
Each moment a survival task—
And gone too soon, the departed.

They weren’t selfish, just afraid.
A fragile heart the world dismayed.
Rejected, scorned, or cast aside,
Alone they suffered, though they tried—
And gone too soon, the departed.

“You don’t belong,” the echoes said.
“You’re not enough,” was daily fed.
“You’re just a burden,” burned inside.
So dreams and self-began to die—
And gone too soon, the departed.

They traded torment for release,
A restless soul who longed for peace.
They stopped a breath to stop the ache,
One silent step for their own sake—
And gone too soon, the departed.

Tired of battles, worn and bruised,
Tired of being always used.
Tired of pleading, tired of pain,
Tired of trying all in vain—
And gone too soon, the departed.

Anxiety like wildfire spread,
While midnight whispers filled their head.
Despair became their only friend,
A loss, a wound that wouldn’t mend—
And gone too soon, the departed.

The sword of hopelessness struck deep,
The storm of loneliness struck anew
Each thought a wound, unhealed, unkind.
And the ruins of shame bled straight through—
And gone too soon, the departed.

The power of powerlessness drained their flame,
Each breath, a burden; each day the same.
They fought in silence, broke apart,
With no one there to mend their heart—
And gone too soon, the departed.

Today is Today

Today drips like ripe fruit,
crushed beneath the feet of kings and beggars alike.
There are laughters—wild, like tambourines in drunken alleys.
There are cries—long, like cathedrals echoing prayers that rot.
Today is today—
no mask, no mercy.

Somewhere, a woman breathes peace into her child’s soft hair,
Elsewhere, bones rattle beneath the boots of men with metal hearts.
Freedom dances barefoot in one square—
In another, a soul is shackled for dreaming.
Today is today—
a coin flipped by invisible gods.

Each sunrise is a loaded gun—
pointed at luck, or loss.
Some sip wine with trembling lips and call it survival.
Others bleed, silently, into clean white sheets.
Today is today—
the blade and the balm.

Alive—yes, the earth still spins
in her dress of dust and fire.
Life kisses us, bites us, forgets us.
But still,
Today is today—
undeniable, holy,
and cruel as love.