I always find myself
getting upset with little things,
whether it’s the way my best friend
acknowledges me like I am a burden,
or the way my boyfriend
can’t just be happy with one girl.
I’m always upset,
and I don’t know why I’m like this.
I’m a happy person,
at least to people’s knowledge,
but on the inside
I am angry.
Very, very angry.
I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
I can be happy,
but that’s only when I have a distraction,
like when my best friend does listen to me,
or when my boyfriend makes me feel
like the prettiest girl in the world.
Those are meant to be happy moments,
but somehow I find the negative in all of it.
Is she secretly judging me?
Why is he suddenly nice?
Is he cheating?
Why can’t I just enjoy something good
without wondering what’s wrong with it?
Why do I always have to find something
to be angry about?
I’m happy to people’s knowledge,
but on the inside,
I’m angry,
and sometimes I don’t even know
what I’m angry at.
Lord, tears fall at night so silently;
people don't notice.
In the pitch-dark hours, no one can see
puffy, red faces in broken homes
or with broken lives,
where there is no peace.
They cry and cry till sunup,
and some fall asleep,
with no appetite to eat,
for their souls are hungry for peace.
They sing,
"Who really loves me?
Who can save me
from these thoughts that torment me?"
They all judge them, Lord—
their friends and family.
They have all turned
their backs on them.
But Lord, You see.
And You are faithful,
for You never sleep.
Show them Your never-ending love,
the power of a King clothed in majesty,
with a crown of thorns
and holes in His arms and feet.
Destiny had been kind to us for a season
we exchanged I love you’s and went our separate ways
The nostalgia for something so wondrous and fair
still astounds me
something different from the memories - and the dry uncontrollable ache of loss
I transmute the pain with ritual:
fresh thyme grown in a pot
on my doorstep
infused in oil
contained in a jar at my feet
and daily performed.
I’ve been searching
in a new place and time
for a different song
I’ve finally got it through my head
I just can’t break it to my heart
It starts as a whisper, a storm in your skin,
a pressure so loud, it echoes within.
Not for attention. Not for the show.
It’s the scream you can't let anyone know.
It's the moment you drown, desperate to feel,
when numbness becomes the loudest appeal.
They say, “Just talk,” but the words retreat -
how do you explain pain that doesn’t speak?
You cover the marks, pull down the sleeve,
play the part that others believe.
But it’s never about wanting to die -
it’s about needing something to quiet the cry.
And still, you survive. Again. Again.
You wake and ache but try to remain.
Because somewhere deep beneath that ache,
you know there's more than what pain can take.
So here’s what’s true, even if it’s small:
You are not your scars. You are not your fall.
You are the breath that followed the burn,
the strength in choosing each twist and turn.
Let your voice crack, let the silence break -
you’re allowed to need, to bend, to shake.
And if the darkness clings tonight,
let this poem hold the light
A Drink with an Old Friend:
Like a criminal,
I'm caught red handed —
As I return the scene of the crime.
But I don't understand it,
It's not mine.
No, I didn't plan it.....
Noose around my neck,
And trauma did the damage.
Reenactment....
Drowning in the fractures,
Of my melted face.
Again I ask,
Who am I today?
Isn't time just a place?
Does identity disappear,
When bones are ground into paste?
When even the mirror,
Reflects my empty space.
Red is the flesh,
Dipped in my own blood.
Stained is the page,
With a cruel heart called love.
Swaying in time,
Like the pendulum of the clock.
As I turn towards death and simply laugh.
I've been dying.....
Ever since my first bath.
Come on Mr. Grim,
If you won't take me—
Why don't we just hang.
Here have a cigar,
I'll pour you a glass.
Let's raise a toast,
To the pain long past.
~D34d-1~
*In regards to Repetition Compulsion
At the touch of Divine love every scar of the soul is instantly healed.
Demetrios Trifiatis
04 October 2026
What had happened?
What is wrong?
They all will ask
But will they risk understanding?
No, many can’t handle the idea
The idea that the being before them was broken
Rejoined and broken again
Over and over with nothing to give
Nothing but a fake smile and laugh to ease others
Will they know it’s fake?
Will they even care?
What would happen if we could all give a bit more?
To those around us broken beyond repair?
Would the world spin a bit brighter?
Or would we all become a bit darker?
Oh I’d ask what is wrong?
What had happened?
What is needed?
If only I could speak
But alas
I am broken.
Soft like the skin of a baby
Like the ocean on a quiet night, not a breeze to be blown
Soft like the breath of a child hiding under her desk
Like the whispers of her teacher as she locks the door
The soft steps of anger through an empty hallway
Her soft hair as it absorbs what she once was and could have been
Soft silk of a casket she lies in after she takes her last breath
Soft, are the cries of a childless mother
Soft are the prayers of the local church
Soft is the sentence he will receive
Because soft is the government who oversees
We live to die,
For no man knows what tomorrow holds,
And in the end, the last appointment we all must keep is death.
When the Angel of Death comes,
He does not ask for your title,
He does not bow to your riches,
He is not moved by your power, your fame, or your crown.
At the end, we all die.
Whether you are young with dreams still budding,
Or old with stories etched in wrinkles,
Whether you are mighty or broken, celebrated or forgotten,
We all die.
It is painful, yet undeniable — there is nothing we can do to escape it.
We were not born to remain here forever;
We were born to pass through.
This life is but a breath, a fleeting shadow,
We live it once, and only once.
So let that once be worthwhile.
Therefore, live knowing we are here for a short time,
Do not look down on others, do not trample the lowly,
For you do not know what tomorrow will make of any man.
The beggar today may be a king tomorrow, and the king today, dust.
We live to die so love deeply,
Forgive quickly, live truthfully,
And let your life echo beyond the grave.
Never Say Never
Never say no to the moons in pain,
never kill the caged dove.
Turn off the alarm that kills the birds —
you are the one who can save them.
I hear voices asking for life,
I hear whispers, I hear cries.
I will not stop, I will listen to them,
because I am the one who cares.
They are alone beyond the sea,
I live on the northern sea.
I will never say no, I will listen to their voice —
that is the only help from my side.
Run
She marched.
No shoes,
just marched —
grey patches on her legs,
stiff and hard.
Metal watching from above,
nowhere to hide,
just to walk.
She cannot sit,
she has to write.
The world must listen to the cries,
but how long can she survive?
The buzzer alerted.
It landed —
landed on her with a thud so wild.
Pen in her hand.
Pen was her guide.
The leaderboard was my space to climb
I reached top spot in record time
they all proclaimed I was the only one
who could put out fires, reverse the damage done
and I’ll admit it felt so fun
being crowned number one
but it didn’t last, I’ve learnt that now
I’m fading quickly, trying to climb back up, but I don’t know how
Innovation and perfect plans
I held the keys in my hands
there was no luck I couldn’t undo
I always knew what to do
but one year later the difference is striking
I find mistakes to be too inviting
I’m hoarse from all the voices that I’m always fighting
there’s a new me in town that they find more exciting
I no longer belong
in his village of wrong
hanging on to his words
I’ve been here for too long
and as much as they say
that it’s not going this way
I can’t stand to watch it unfold as I lose all of my weight
there were problems before
of this I am sure
but I seemed to have answers then that I don’t have anymore
I’m being phased out
no matter how loud I shout
the leaderboard is not mine
it’s no longer my time
LOST
Tears
Without a face
Cannot run
They've lost their way
They stream inside
A deep dark lake
Erodes, divides
And reshapes
IF you are never noticed ... No one will notice your pain
Hall of Shame, where I currently dwell
Played the game, but it was bound to fail
While the Devil just danced
I was Demon romanced
Head aflame, with Hellhounds on my trail
STINGING BLOOD SUCKING AWARENESS
There stood I,
As black as night;
My skin, buck-naked:-
A blood-sucking mosquito,
Painfully bit me with its stinger;
Causing me to slap it with my hand:-
Then I blew its dead body from my palm;
Giving awareness of gaining liberation:
We must become as liberty’s hand,
And our political oppressors,
As stinging mosquitoes:
Slapped and blown:-
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