Teenage

Dear God, I no longer beg You to clear my way,
Or turn every thunder into this peaceful day.
I don’t need You to stop every silver droplet from falling,
Just teach me how to stand when humanity stops calling.

I don’t ask for a life where I don’t feel pain,
Or a sky that oaths sunshine, never rain.
I don’t need You to fight every combat for me,
Just give me the strength to fight for what I see.

Don’t build me a safe haven from all that is cruel,
Don’t make me a pond that never leaves its pool.
Let the winds test my fortitude, let the cold test my flame,
I don’t need an easy life, just the fearless heart to stay and remain.

When I have thousands of feelings with nowhere to go, when my faith keeps growing thin,
Don’t silence the callous, make me stronger within.
When I fall to my knees, let me rise on my own,
With the strength to rise anew what I thought was a stone.

I know You can hold me safe, I know You are the one to guide,
But I want to find the strength I carry inside.
Not a life without agony, not a soul without scars,
But the courage to keep walking beneath broken stars.

So, Almighty, don’t always rescue me from the fight,
Teach me to find my own courage, hope and light.
I won’t ask You to carry the weight of my soul,
Just remind me I’m strong enough to make myself work whole.

And if I come crying, don’t call me weak,
There are battles within me when I struggle to speak.
Just sit with me quietly; let me learn how to again stand,
Not by holding my world, but instead by strengthening my hands.

For I am not asking to never ever be afraid,
Or to walk through this life without ever needing Your aid.
I’m asking for support and love when there’s no one around,
For the strength to get up when I fall badly to the ground.

I don’t want You to live every moment with me,
I want the strength to become who I was meant to be.
So, God, please be my compass, my faith, and my light—
But teach me to be my own warrior in that fight.

Failure comes to teach us,
Not to make us stop.
It shows us our mistakes
And helps us reach the top.
When we fall, we must rise,
And try once more again.
Hard times make us stronger,
And help us face the pain.
Do not lose hope or quit,
Keep faith in what you do.
Every failure is a step,
Taking you closer to success.

I felt the touch of a serpent, but it was only silver,
a sweep of the stethoscope against my skin.
My lungs gasped as the monitor counted — one, two, three,
everything existed except my life.

A sweep of the stethoscope against my skin,
at 4 in the morning my footsteps crested, embedded.
Everything existed except my life,
the ward was silent, night creeping in.

At 4 in the morning my footsteps crested, embedded,
my mother relieved, sweat tracing her face.
The ward was silent, night creeping in,
her smile a dangling wire, singing of hope.

My mother relieved, sweat tracing her face,
wish I were just bleeding red and not wilting black.
Her smile a dangling wire, singing of hope,
a fool, forbidden even to scream — lest mother weep.

Wish I were just bleeding red and not wilting black,
from dark ward walls to fluorescent glare of classroom.
A fool, forbidden even to scream — lest mother weep,
feeding pipes, oxygenated narrow tubes — the true companions I ever had.

From dark ward walls to fluorescent glare of classroom,
surface poise, a practiced smile they judge.
Feeding pipes, oxygenated narrow tubes — the true companions I ever had,
the odour of detergent confirms I am not dead.

Surface poise, a practiced smile they judge,
my lungs gasped as the monitor counted — one, two, three,
the odour of detergent confirms I am not dead,
I felt the touch of a serpent, but it was only silver.

Love, it’s a strange, unpredictable thing,
It brings the heart a brief serenity,
Like promises exchanged within a ring,
Before it blinds us to calamity.

If I must reject this poisoned grace,
The world will be consumed by melancholy,
As toxic foxglove blooms in its place
As gentle hearts are shattered for their folly.

Why did this bitter shadow fall upon me?
I did not lack in truth or morality,
But that’s what my eyes must see:
That painful love uncovers reality.

For love dismisses the beloved zen,
So I ask what’s love again?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Beauty is subjective to us all.
So instead I wonder if a single soul alive,
Would mourn someone such as I.
Would they scream?
Would they cry?
No forget-me-nots scattered by my side.
For I am the lost sock,
Looked for but never worn.
The hum of the refrigerator,
Heard only when the power dies.
The fuzzy bear with broad eyes,
Forgotten as the child earns his pride.
Even if I were to die tonight,
Nobody’d ever know my plight.
Beyond the veil,
I’d hear them laugh,
Hear them mock,
And then go on with their lives,
Just like they did when I was alive.
Still, a stubborn hope inside,
Says someone would feel the gray,
Once the light has left my eyes.
And to that pipe dream I hold on—
Maybe they’d tear up at a sight,
Fend me with all their might,
Dog-ear my favourite poems,
Forget the world outside.
Maybe the seat where I used to sit—
Would feel too cold or slightly wide.
Regardless of what’s to be,
I’d like to believe that delusion of mine.

It was cold, unfair and beyond painful.
Everyday to see the chain warp around my throat
choking me slowly, deathly and blissfully.

I was in hell, looking at heaven the world I live in
spared me no mercy and mocked my existence,
only showing me scorn for love.

I want to run. To run is to live. To run is to be free.
To run is to show spite,
yes, spite the fuel that burns brighter than anything.

I shall burn brighter than any star
for losers of this earth shall perish in mercy of the strong better as dead,
better as food, better to show off the gruelling taunt.

A vow carved by my own blood
as promise to embrace the never ending pain
and suffering, ahh my chaos take this world.

What beauty lies in this accursed world
as the never ending cycle continues innocence,
a pure lamb, the exposed and soon to be dust.
Is there any beauty in this ouroboros.

Wait, could it be that life the purpose of life to live is to suffer?
To live is to then die, to live is to experience.
Now after this small quarrel of mine
let us suffer a little more
before going to sleep.

Bullying is always bad
it can be in whispers
it stabs you
breaks you
makes you get blisters
they make you feel deserted, isolated, alone.
“You are useless” – those words are the worst
it can leave you voiceless
it causes brokenness
they make you feel hopeless,
invisible clueless.

I want to break free,
to fly away
to make and show my world on display.

It can be a rude comment,
a mean joke but it still hurts mentally and physically.
you say I stink but when I say it back to you
you blink
but that’s life
it’s like a knife you get hurt;
you fight back then you get off track
back to being the useless one.

They walk over you, you rise
but little did you know they’re way ahead of you
Enough IS Enough.
I stand out and shout “VOICES LOUDER THAN SILENCE”
We all deserve to speak, to break free and fly away
to put my world on display
To smile truly and not falsely
Don’t fight bullying but don’t ignore it
SOMETIMES they bully for their hurt,
give them a cookie
talk to them deep inside their sad

No longer silent, no longer small,
Together we can break this wall.
It takes one voice to start the light,
To turn the dark and make it bright.

They tell me that the blueprint is quite simple:
Walk through the double doors at 8:00 AM,
Ignore the sudden tightening in the temple,
And blend into the morning classroom hum.
Collect the letters stamped in bright red ink,
And stack them like a fortress on the desk.
But no one asks a teenager to think
About the weight of being picturesque.
My mother counts the trophies on the shelf,
And sees a future paved in polished gold.
She does not see me wrestling with myself,
Or how my hands turn numb when they are cold.
“It’s just a phase,” the gentle voices say,
“A little dip before the upward climb.”
But phases aren’t supposed to steal the day,
Or turn your heartbeat into borrowed time.
I sit inside the cafeteria noise,
A crowded island in a sea of sound.
I watch the easy laughter of the boys,
And drop my eyes down flat against the ground.
The phone becomes a mirror and a blade,
A tiny screen where perfect lives take root,
While in the dark, the plans I carefully made
Are tangled up in branches at the root.
I want to tell them that the ceiling drops,
That breathing feels like lifting heavy stone,
That every time the social music stops,
I am completely, entirely alone.
But words are heavy when you’re out of breath,
And silence is an easier wall to build.
So I play quiet, playing life and death,
Inside a room that never can be filled.

She cries tears of silvery white,
round pearls as white as snow.
To find them you must go
where no one has ever known,
where moon-like jellyfish fly,
where star-like plants grow.

In her crown of pearls,
clutching her gown of mist,
she weeps by a silent pond,
keeping secrets none will owe.

But beware, seeker, beware,
her tears come with a price,
one you soon shall know.

Being me
Is so hard to be
Annoying brothers
Homophobic Grandma
Know it all Grandpa
I can’t be me
I told my Mom
I’m bi and trans
She still calls me “Girl”
Still calls me “She”
Why can’t she see
That is not me