The walls know my silence better than my voice,

each word I bury makes less of a choice.

They call me the storm, the constant unrest,

but I am the wound they never addressed.

Anger sits heavy, unspoken, unseen,

they paint me in colours of cruel and obscene.

Yet I watch their masks fracture, their judgments unfold,

their whispers turn bitter, their kindness turn cold.

I carry the ...

It seeps poison into your blood,

Coursing through your veins,

Pumping into your heart, infecting the mind,

Suffocating all your senses.

Bewitching you—

The famished soil gasps for water,

Sensing desperation, it sends a flood—

Drowning itself.

Gulping.

In a world swallowed by night,

A blanket of darkness,

Empty souls yearning for light.

The radiant sun

Pierces the shadows one day,

Scorching rays en...