Siri, show me an image of a leader who fails to earn the respect of his troops

The world would rather watch you die than help , I don’t believe there is any good person out there , everyone pretends to be good but situations pop up and then you see their true color

I searched for love but did could not find any I searched for help any kind of help non was given I searched for any kind of job but found non No one to talk to , no one to call family, no one to call friend I am definitely sure no one will even notice when I finally end it all

and yet when the light finds the dust in my room I feel a thin, ridiculous pulse: I exist. not because anyone notices, not because anyone cares, but because I am still here, still counting breaths.

if being broken was an art, I’d be famous, but fame wants cameras and applause, not the quiet bleed; so I learn to wear my nearly-broken like a secret, tucking the ache behind small everyday tasks

my heart is a pocket with too many holes, money and hope leaking out the seams, I sharpen my face to fit the day’s gray clothes, and practice not collapsing in the grocery aisle

the world walks past like it has a map drawn to avoid the shape I make; people press on their lives like buttons, no one reads the tremor in my hand.

Any one has an idea how I can sell this ??

For sale

I wish I could just drop down dead , I can’t keep on living this way

You could not do more damage to America’s long-standing alliances if you tried

I wake inside a body that feels like a coffin, breath scraping my lungs like broken glass. Every step I take cracks the ground beneath me, as if the world itself wants me buried

What I use to look like before life started fucking with me

Weakness wears my skin like torn cloth, every seam unraveling. My knees buckle, a tower crumbling with no fire inside. Even breath feels borrowed, lungs rusted, hollowed by silence.

I don’t think we are all speaking up enough

Happiness isn’t loud it’s the quiet bloom of knowing that right here, right now, everything is enough.

The world hums in color, trees leaning in like old friends. Clouds drift slow and lazy, painting shadows that dance on the ground. Every step feels lighter, as if the earth itself lifts me. Time doesn’t hurry, it simply breathes beside me

Laughter walks barefoot across the morning floor, spilling warmth in every corner. Even the smallest things sing the kettle’s whistle, a bird tracing arcs in the sky, your breath, steady and alive.

People don’t care until *they* are the ones charged/attacked. No one ever screamed louder for due process in his own legal matters than Donald John Trump

The night has no bottom, just a falling that won’t end. Every breath tastes like rust, and silence claws louder than screams. I count the cracks in the walls, each one a door that never opens. The mirror keeps my shadow, but won’t return my face.

Got me thinking

I carry myself like a shadow of a shadow, smiling when needed, but breaking quietly where no one can see. The no world asks for light, for laughter, for strength but all I have is this emptiness, this sharp-edged silence.

Name:Amaa Age:27 Sex: female Pronouns: she/her Writing poems is a passion I am just a lonely gem in a cruel world