The dark
So quiet
Its tireless
Its scary
The dark
So loud
Its so weary
Its so free
The dark
That's where it gets you
It holds you
It shows you
Your mind
So busy
So everything
Yet so nothing..
...just because it's dark...
.. it's again night.
There are words I have written
That I can't collect to record
The time is gone, lesson learned
Where I learned to wield my sword
I've delivered my works
Like a mother giving birth
The fruit remains undiscovered
In seed form, deep within the earth
I grieve who I could have been
If influence would have graced my plight
LOVE has a greater plan I can't know
Until along the way, I'm graced with sight
I don't regret my decision to flow
The unknown has been dark and full of sorrow
But authenticity has grown me into identity
That is etched in the bone marrow
There is no need to declare where I've been
When you can experience His grace in my presence
His LOVE has formed patience in my movement
And compassion has formed TRUTH in my essence
...thank God for my untold story
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-18-2026
Travel inward, walking in tight
corridors of a rundown maze.
Suffocating within these bricks,
built by sweat and tears.
Obfuscated by the mist that,
blinds, and smells rosemary.
Turns creating uncountable corners,
leaving space for beings to breathe.
Beings that watch — and stalk.
The cracks on the walls can seduce
with outward's gaze, but there is no escape.
Any window or ledges — and the thought
of walking back to face them shivers my soul.
These walls built me too, each drop
of sweat, like metal for hardening.
Each drop of tear, like light for clarity.
Lost, but I keep moving.
Not chained, just surrounded.
I was never alone, like a kid
that leaves crumbles in the forest.
I was already in pieces, pieces of my own spirit.
They were me.
They told me:
“Pierce the pain. Look beyond.”
I did not.
I cannot will —
I can only long.
Imust not become nothing.
I remain unfinished.
Not forgetting the natives
who there once held sway
the factories and farms
of the blue and grey
made the country
what it is today
but his untold minions
and one man’s say
may destroy the Land of the Free
known as the U.S.A.
No more waiting for a cue,
I step into the spotlight, the script unwritten but mine, the hero of my own unfolding story.
The plot twists are mine to navigate, the victories mine to celebrate. When doubt knocks, I answer with courage; when fear whispers, I roar with resolve. My story is vibrant, raw, and relentlessly mine.
So watch me rise, watch me write, watch me live fully—because this is my tale, told boldly and beautifully, every step a declaration: I am the main character of my life.
I hold the pen; I craft the narrative that defines who I am.
I make is a verse in my poem, every step a line in my script. The plot twists? I write them
This story is mine to own—no extras, no understudies. I speak loud, act bold, and live with purpose because being the main character means walking forward with courage, carving my path with confidence.
I am more than just a player in life’s theater—I am the author, director, and hero all at once. This is my story, and I’m ready to live it fiercely, unapologetically, and authentically.
No more waiting for a cue,
I step into the spotlight, the script unwritten but mine, the hero of my own unfolding story.
The plot twists are mine to navigate, the victories mine to celebrate. When doubt knocks, I answer with courage; when fear whispers, I roar with resolve. My story is vibrant, raw, and relentlessly mine.
So watch me rise, watch me write, watch me live fully—because this is my tale, told boldly and beautifully, every step a declaration: I am the main character of my life.
I hold the pen; I craft the narrative that defines who I am.
I make is a verse in my poem, every step a line in my script. The plot twists? I write them
This story is mine to own—no extras, no understudies. I speak loud, act bold, and live with purpose because being the main character means walking forward with courage, carving my path with confidence.
I am more than just a player in life’s theater—I am the author, director, and hero all at once. This is my story, and I’m ready to live it fiercely, unapologetically, and authentically.
Their whispers rise,a curling flame,
Behind each hush, a heat untold.
No saint escapes a sinner's name;
Their whispers rise,a curling flame.
The tongue's a torch, it plays the game,
The truth's too young, the lies too old.
Their wishes rise, a curling flame,
Behind each hush a heat untold.
The Untold
All have at least one
secret deep within
the soul, the Inner Spark
of essence, at the core
I am not who you think I am
You are not who you claim to be
For if we both transparent were
We'd see the starkest symmetry
The thing that's makes you different
that petrifies your purity
Towards same sex, the sideways glance
that hint of torn identity
I have the same affliction
but learnt to love it's glory
and now I wear, just like a badge
Ambassadorial majesty
But does that make me happier
than your delusional drama
You feign illusion, fool your fate
denied with indignation
You get to raise a family
Your life will leave a legacy
Though Truth may hide in truancy
absent from integrity
So the real secret is not who
we claim we are or things we do
No matter which path is chosen
there remains bitter confusion
Your eyes are orbs of light where untold secrets sleep,
they cut through darkness like arrows searching for lost light,
and in their depths gather loves and losses like rain in a cup,
unspoken stories burning silently, like embers beneath the wind's ash.
They seek hearts once open, now closed within their own silence,
reflecting dreams that do not die, but float like islands on seas of fire,
holding truths like pearls hidden in shells of shadow,
and letting slip only what the soul can bear without breaking.
Sometimes they cast a spark of disdain, a sharp cut of cold light,
other times they close, heavy with sleep, at the call of too deep a shadow,
but they awaken once more when hope steps again over the horizon,
and greet the dawn with a wisdom that cannot be learned.
Through the years, they bow only to truth, without masks, without lies,
for only the eyes can see to the end the sweetness and pain of love.
Your smile beckons my heart
To come
As soothing rays of the sun
Nurturing famished hearts with warmth
As keys to the essence of your soul
Unlocking golden secrets yet untold
As stirrings of a gentle but persistent wind
Generously caressing both lovers and friends
As welcoming as a long-lived tree
A familiar yet majestic thing of beauty
Your smile beckons my heart
To come
As spring graces the face of the earth,
an underlying coldness settles below.
Petals dance in the fleeting breeze,
yet a quiet goodbye waits beneath
Time and time again, cherry blossoms bloom,
as the October winds threaten to defile them
But if winter lingers on the surface,
and spring beneath,
doesn't that mean that with every bloom,
a bone-chilling frost begins to creep.
Love is not just the use of words
Of a feeling, touching silence
Everything can be said easily
But "Love" is just one word
Has meaning behind the back
Innumerable emotions, fear
Hope and rights are hidden
People are afraid
If they fall in love
Others don't want to understand it
So maybe or perhaps
Love often remains silent
Untold, yet so deep.
I feel, I feel a little bit more
Deafening silences of stories untold
Wrenching hearts, welled-up eyes
Suppressed screams weaving loving lullabies
I feel, I feel a little bit more
Breezes disguised as tornadoes
Wreckage, havoc, “it’s dark inside”
Cluttered confusion showing the ‘light’
I feel, I feel a little bit more
In a circus, on a tightrope
Smirks, grins, mocking eyes
Free falling to see if it’s alright
Tell me, tell me if you know
To keep these secrets, box of lies
Chest of unconsoled cries
Buried beyond land, seas and skies
Never unravelled, but felt, kept and hidden again
By souls destined to have the sweetest of smiles.
Who knows who are the casualties of war?
Are they the wounded, maimed, and all the dead?
Who counts the orphans, widows, those displaced?
The untold truth, a light on this can shed
I also am a casualty of war
My soul is wounded by the grief I see
The war is raging here inside my head
I am held hostage, longing to be free
Survivor guilt is ravaging my nights
The blast of bombs, a morbid wake up call
Though I'm alive, I feel so dead inside
Like those cut down by hate, I take a fall
Destructor's cravings are insatiable
The sites destroyed include those of my mind
My tears pour down with that of martyrs' blood
Like refugees, a haven I must find
A lesser casualty, yet I am one
This war is altering my very soul
I am ashamed to claim a numbered place,
Yet war affects the country as a whole
Aggressors will not stop their killing spree
The toll of death goes higher every day
Who counts the living dead, devoid of hope?
The shroud awaits the ones this war will slay
These casualties of war exceed belief,
and trauma rages on without relief
Tales untold who so fights the dragon;
Blessed endowed with light that over shadows;
Rush of wins, battles crossed, racing wagon;
Blinded hunter lights the sparks;
Who am I to apologize for genocide;
Whomsoever am I to jump off bridges and fly;
Where am I as said dragon whispers in my ear;
Memory bold
Action gold
Tales untold
In thus the tale of the unknown
I am light bearer hero;
In this tale of the unknown;
Majestically I'm golden ;
I shine bright galaxy bright I put my sword back in my seave;
I digress history prevail my battles and challenges victory;
Earthen battles won, victory songs;
Righteous trues, obsolutes;
Triumph battles good inhales
Memory bold
Action gold
Tales untold
I am Soldier Victorious you haven't heard of us for real life we have already prevailed I light has shown;
Tales untold
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