Hello! I'm so glad to be joining you all. I've had my share of both conditional and unconditional love, and thought I'd write a quick poem about the good kind, today. 💛 unconditional love the steadfast anchor that holds us through our storms as we navigate the swells of turbulent panic it reassures we will be well unbudgingly it plants us into the hope that we will make it through AMC

There are things in life you never expect. You can't say *Never*, because that's when *Never* sneaks up on you — lurking in a dark corner, waiting to pounce like a lion. It attacks and attaches like a leech; you think you're done with the *Never*, but every time you say *Never*, it appears again and again, leaving you breathless, wounded, staggering, unbalanced. You retreat to lick your wounds. Slowly, you start to see sunshine in the rain. The clouds clear, the storm subsides — calm waters, comforting ambiance, Zen. Yet just as you whisper *Never again*, it whips you around, staggering you, flipping you inside out. You know that, unfortunately, you have all the resources to manage this. This is your biggest *Never* yet — the one you said you'd never face. You keep stacking the *Nevers* until they become *Always*. *Everything Always happens to me.* Your tenacity exists for this very purpose. Without it, you cease to exist. The *Nevers* stack into *Always*, forcing you to assess where your voice is directed — and that is **up**. Even if silent, it is still there. We find our voice in the silence. Because if we don't, we get passed over a bump in the road, swept under the rug.

He wants me to open up, tell him whats on my mind What’s heavy on my heart Only, I don’t know where I start. Missing my family, consistantly Taking loss after lesson. Trying to heal from childhood trauma Greiving myslef. Mental illness, addiction the yearning For anyone to really listen. Meanwhile, Betrayal almost daily We can talk about it all but, We wont get anywhere See, You’d rather interrogate me Behind your guilty conscience I can’t pretend anymore. It’s a sad day when I cant see A reason to talk to you Gee. I don’t want to live in defense, make it make sense. Conversations tense, ive got to be dense. To wish for change, when we Don’t activly pursue Happy We’re stuck in a rut, this pain in my gut Im seriously go nuts. But I love you Maybe, Silence and poetry Can help me

"Die Before You Live" I was born with the war inside me. Didn’t need to learn how to sin— it came coded in my blood, stitched in my DNA like a curse I never asked for. Flawed from the gate. Crooked from the crib. Craving poison like it was peace. I didn’t become broken. I was broken. From the jump. From the womb. From the moment I opened my eyes and breathed in a world just as shattered as me. And I ran— God knows, I ran. Chased highs, chased money, chased lies that dressed up like love. Burned bridges, let people drown trying to keep my own head above water. I thought survival was victory. But really, I was just dying slow. Pain was my gospel. And I worshipped at the altar of escape. But escape is a liar. And every time I thought I found peace, it slipped through my fingers like smoke. And then came the death. Not of the body— but of everything I thought I was. The ego. The pride. The man I built in the image of sin. That man had to die so something holy could rise from the ruin. See, Jesus didn’t say, “Patch it up.” He said, “Pick up your cross.” “Crucify the flesh.” “Die before you live.” And I didn’t get it— not until the pain got so loud it sounded like truth. I thought it was killing me. But it was refining me. All that fire, all that suffering— it was breaking chains I didn’t even know I was dragging. My mind had to be reborn. Not just cleaned. Not just rinsed. Transformed. I had to bury that old mindset in a grave I dug with my own hands. Only then did I start breathing for real. Only then did I feel the weight lift and the light break through the cracks. Now I know: Redemption doesn’t come in comfort. It comes when you’re flat on your back with nothing left but truth. When grace finds you in the ashes of who you used to be and says, “Now—let’s build something better.” So here I am. Not perfect. Not fixed. But new. Made from scars. Held together by mercy. Driven by purpose. And if my pain can help one soul turn back before it’s too late— then let it bleed.

Forever soul in a never body, stand freezing cold in a hotel lobby. Prob’ly warm hands before security, suggest I hit the streets of scare city. On Fear Avenue, packed lanes of red lights. Cars howl in mad fright, haze blurs the sun's light. Hand out? Slapped! side swipe. hand up? swipe, decline. My boots been strapped tight, why I still survive. (In) Zero-sum games, been the cat with nine lives. Been shuffled like cards, been shaken like dice. Played by rule book between working 9-5s Been played by rule books that I did not write. I will write these signs. I'll stand in these lines. Peace sign, be kind as your eyes avert mine. As the shine shadows, will your windows roll? With your hands of time can you spare a soul?