Trigger Warning
You are banished—unwanted,
an alien trapped in the borders of your own mind.
Your kind has turned away;
hands that should be soft now bruise.
Still, you remain silent,
tears falling like a heavy rain that doesn’t stop,
it wants to keep falling.
and all the questions you have
you answer with silence
Before you, a painting:
the sun ablaze with untouchable warmth,
a jungle twisting with secrets,
an ocean murmuring endless nonsense
a field whispering of worlds unseen.
Realities in shapes unspoken.
But they cannot see.
They treat you cruelly,
blind to the beauty you carry.
And still, you are silent.
Tears trace their path,
carving question marks you answer with silence again…
You were born too different,
a soul built to glimpse
the beauty hiding
in the cracks of the ordinary.
But beauty breeds fear,
and fear wraps its cold arms around you.
You Poor thing.
You bury your fear beneath ashes of sadness.
I wish I could be there
I wish I could see
when you make miracles appear.
Don’t be sad, my dear—
maybe in a different world
you wouldn’t be so afraid,
so alone.
They would hold your tired mind,
cradle it with love,
die for your fears,
your view of the world.
They would fight for your right
to believe in being.
And there,
you would never be lonely.
Your soul would find its place.
In that world,
you would finally fly
beyond the dark nights.
You could touch love.
You could fly, broken bird,
free from the prison we call truth.
They do not see what you see—
the trembling threads of another reality,
where truths hum,
where shadows hold secrets
too vast for their eyes.
And sometimes,
even you lose your footing
on this tightrope of perception.
Maybe loneliness is your path.
Maybe you have no choice.
But what if—
what if the visions you hold
are more real than their truths?
What if knowing too much
is your crown of thorns?
You, poor cursed soul.
In a kinder world,
your difference would be a hymn.
Your fractured brilliance—
a temple.
Your mind,
a place of worship.