Book

Just because I write poetry doesn’t means all you can read it, even though you probably have heard it on repeat on videos I post online.

You’ll never know the true meaning behind it or if I wrote it with tears pouring down my face, because in reality you can’t read pass the facade of my skin.

I’m more than my appearance, that is something you can’t see. I’m greater than the words I cut on paper.

You think you know me from the words I spill, but you miss the ache behind every syllable.

I hide myself in metaphors, buried in lines, because exposing the truth means crossing the signs.

And yet, my voice is just a whisper in the crowd, they hear what they want, see what they choose, judging my strength by what I refuse to lose.

Each verse is a fragment of my soul, a piece of the puzzle you’ll never complete.

You see the lines, the rhythms, the rhymes, but you overlook the scars and the healing behind each line I write.

I pour my heart onto the page, a quiet rebellion against the noise, hoping someone, someday will truly listen.

But in a world filled with loud voices and quick judgments, my whispers often drown beneath the clamor.

So I write, not just to be heard, but to create a space where my truth can exist, free from the constraints of perception.

I will continue to weave my emotions into words, to hide my essence in metaphors, because even in the shadows, it’s mine.

And perhaps, one day, someone will look beyond the facade, beyond the surface, and discover the depth of the heart that beats behind the ink.