By Design
They told me pick a lane — a stable one,
a sane one, something with a pension
and a plain one-story frame.
But I was born between the margins,
They built a world of metrics — everything measurable,
everything scalable, everything designed to be consumed
and then forgotten in a feed.
And the poet stands inside this engine heart wide open,
breakable,
bleeding beauty onto pavement
no one stops to read.
The likes become a language.
you learn to carve your deepest truths into shapes
the platform nods at — shorter,
sharper, stranger,
never odd,
never flawed,
And the creative mind
was never built to function in such an artificial society.
where you produce or you vanish,
where you post or you fade,
where your worth is a number
and your art is a trade.
Like a Puzzle piece Out of place.
Peace to the puzzle when I feel puzzled
about where I fit in this game of life.
I've wondered if the words would ever return,
I've scrolled through the noise
looking for proof that someone,
somewhere, is still telling the truth.
but refusing to let the system define what it cost to keep creating,
keep believing,
keep designing a self worth fighting for
in a world that didn't build space for mine.
My mental health is not a flaw in the blueprint.
It is the blueprint.
Every breakdown was a draft.
Every dark night was revision.
Every morning I chose the pen again
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