02/09/2026
A thunderstorm lives behind my eyes,
Though outside, everything is still.
The smallest sound becomes a cry,
The faintest light becomes a blade.
A rose grows quietly inside my mind,
Beautiful, yet tangled in the pain.
Its petals bloom through waves of fire,
Then disappear and bloom again.
Thoughts become heavy, slow, and loud,
The world feels distant, cold, and blurred.
I close my eyes beneath the dark,
Hoping silence will quiet the hurt.
No wound to see, no blood to show,
Just something burning deep inside.
I wait for the storm to let me go,
And hope the light returns with time.