Zozo's

 You were just playing. Small hands arranging quiet kingdoms out of broken plastic and dust. The breeze was soft. The sky, too big for your worries. And yet— they came for you. Dragged, accused, your name already shaped like guilt before you even understood what it meant to steal. I want you to know something. You didn’t do it. You really didn’t. I know you’re still asking if maybe you forgot— if maybe you did something wrong and just don’t remember. But no, love. You didn’t. And more than that— you shouldn’t have had to prove it. You were not made for pain. You were not made to have the word liar beaten into your back just because an adult needed a shape to hit and you were the closest one. You lied to survive. That does not make you untrue. That makes you brave . You were four—maybe five— but already your soul was learning how to contort to match a world that didn’t listen. They didn’t believe you. But I do. I believe every word of you. And ...

Broken people hiding in the shadow,

i wake up every day, early as a bird. i do what i'm supposed to do as a human, i do it well. and yet, deep down, i fear: i fear i'll lose the ones i hold dear because of that.... that monster still latching itself onto the attic of my mind. i'm afraid it will jump out. i'm afraid it will blow out everything i hold dear, everyone i hold dear. i'm afraid i will swallow the pills; i'm afraid i won't see my loved ones. i am doing what i can to survive, people see it and applaud me  i appreciate it all  but my pain lingers  i ache on, the monster creeps even now— it whispers in my ear, it tells me to end it all. my mind says i'm psychotic, yet my heart says i'm pragmatic. (im doing what i can to survive.)