They walked away and left me here,
still trapped beneath the choking ground,
their promises like smoke and fear,
dissolved to dust without a sound.

They said they’d stay, but always lied,
their hands slipped free while mine were tied,
I screamed for help, but none replied,
just hollow echoes where tears cried.

The roots around me tighten still,
a noose that squeezes, cold and deep,
their fingers grasp with quiet will,
and steal the breath I try to keep.

Each inhalation turns to pain,
each heartbeat pounds against despair,
a rhythm wrought in loss and chain,
a song of silence, thickened air.

I’m not alive, but not yet gone,
a ghost within this hollow place,
forgotten in the twilight dawn,
erased without a single trace.

The darkness clings like tangled vines,
the weight of all I could not hold,
a prison built with cruel designs,
where hope grows weak, and dreams grow cold.

Yet somewhere deep beneath this pain,
a whisper stirs, a fragile flame,
a spark that dares to rise again,
to break these roots and call my name.

But now I wait, still bound, alone,
within this garden made of grief,
a soul that’s lost its path, its home,
and prays for just one sweet relief.
  

I am breaking,
not softly, not gently,
but with sharp cracks that echo inside.
The pieces fall like shattered glass,
and I am too tired to even hide.

They want me whole,
but strip me thinner
with every smile I’m forced to wear.
I’m bleeding through invisible wounds
while they pretend I’m still repair.

There’s nothing left but echoes now,
of who I was, or tried to be.
The roots have wrapped around my bones,
and drained the very breath from me.

I am breaking,
please don’t tell me
to hold on for one more day.
Let me fall where silence waits,
let me drift, and fade away.
  

I carry what no eyes can see,
a weight beneath my every breath.
It presses in, it owns my chest,
a slow and quiet kind of death.

No one sees the breaking lines,
the way my ribs collapse inside.
I smile through storms I cannot name,
while pieces of me twist and hide.

I hold their burdens like my own,
collecting wounds they’ll never feel.
They say I’m strong, but they don’t know
how long I've screamed beneath the steel.

If they could hear the weight I bear,
perhaps they'd finally let me fall.
But they just hand me more to hold,
until I’m nothing left at all.
  

I used to dream of flowers,
petals soft beneath the rain.
But now I grow like bitter weeds,
twisting in my silent pain.

The garden I once hoped would bloom
is wild with vines that choke my breath.
No roses rise, no tulips dance,
just weeds that wrap me close to death.

Their thorns are part of who I am,
sharp reminders I can’t sever.
I'm not a bloom, I’m only rot,
lost in roots that break forever.

I tried to rise, I tried to shine,
but all I’ve grown are crooked seeds,
and now I’m tangled in myself,
becoming nothing but the weeds.
  

I pulled,
and pulled,
until my hands were raw,
my fingers bleeding on the threads
of everything I never saw.

But the roots—they held.
Tighter with each desperate cry.
Every time I tried to break,
they only wrapped me deeper, why?

I screamed into an empty sky,
begging earth to set me free.
But the ground just swallowed my reply,
and the roots laughed quietly at me.

I thought if I just tried enough,
if I just fought a little more,
they'd finally loosen,
finally break,
but still, I'm tangled to my core.
  

I am broken in too many places,
splintered like glass beneath heavy feet,
shards reflecting long lost faces,
pieces of me I cannot meet.

I wear a mask of hollowed eyes,
a painted calm to hide the war,
while underneath, my silence cries,
begging not to break once more.

Every time I try to rise,
the weight returns like ruthless waves,
their voices echo through my skies,
their needs, the chains my spirit gave.

I’ve bled for hands that turned away,
poured my breath into their storms,
stitched their wounds while mine decayed,
reshaping shadows into forms.

I’ve held their hearts while losing mine,
traded light for whispered grace,
but now my stars refuse to shine,
and emptiness has found its place.

I am broken, please believe me,
more than cracks, I'm hollowed through,
there’s nothing left to hold or give me,
no more strength to cling or prove.

Let me fall, or kindly free me,
unbind these chains I cannot fight,
for I don’t know how long completely
I can survive without my light.

Each breath is thinner than the last,
each heartbeat slower in my chest,
I stand inside my shattered past,
desperate just to finally rest.
  

Let me out,
this place is closing in.
The air grows thinner with each breath,
as shadows seep beneath my skin.

The walls press inward, drawing tight,
each heartbeat echoes sharp and thin,
like distant thunder in the night,
a storm that rages deep within.

I press my palms against the glass,
my fingertips trace lines of strain,
but every crack that spiders past
etches sorrow into pain.

I scream for mercy as they break,
as fractures bloom like haunted trees,
but silence swallows all I make,
my cries dissolve like whispered pleas.

I cannot mend what isn’t mine,
I cannot heal what they won’t see,
I’ve carried weight across their line,
I’ve bled my love endlessly.

My spine is bowed, my shoulders torn,
from years of holding what they dropped,
a hollow well where hope was born,
but drained as promises all stopped.

Please,
before the dark devours my spark,
before I fade into this hole,
before I'm swallowed by the dark,
unchain the fragments of my soul.

Open the door,
or let me fall,
let me slip into the black,
release me from this endless crawl,
or never ask for my way back.

For all I wanted was to breathe,
to feel the sky beneath my wings,
but now I ache, and softly plead,
just let me go from everything.
  

I tied my own chains long ago,
with threads of guilt I couldn’t see,
whispers curling soft and low:
"This is love. This burden’s me."

I told myself, “This is my due,”
as silent ropes encased my skin,
and in their pull, I misconstrued
devotion as the weight within.

I let the needs of everyone
become my purpose, steal my breath,
their broken pieces, one by one,
I held until there was no rest.

I planted gardens for their peace,
watered wounds I didn’t bleed,
tended pain that wouldn't cease,
while mine grew wild beneath their need.

And so I wove my quiet death,
thread by thread, and tear by tear,
until my soul was starved of breath,
but still I whispered, “I am here.”

It wasn’t you who tied me down,
nor them who sealed this silent fate.
It was my hands, my softest crown,
that chose to bow beneath the weight.

I wrapped my heart in silent chains,
believing love meant breaking me,
mistaking sacrifice for gain,
confusing bondage with loyalty.

Now tangled in regret’s embrace,
I stare at knots I cannot sever,
a prisoner lost in my own grace,
a cage I built, and filled, forever.

Yet in the stillness, faint and thin,
a whisper stirs within my chest:
"You can unbind what lies within,
release yourself, and find your rest."
  

They locked the door and threw the key
into an ocean dark and wide,
where shadows whisper endlessly,
and hope itself has learned to hide.

I scream, but silence wraps me tight,
no voice returns across the black.
The stars refuse to lend their light;
there’s no one left to pull me back.

The water rises in my chest,
its weight like stones beneath my skin,
the lives I carried, all confessed,
now drag me deeper from within.

I held their hearts, their wounds, their pain,
their shattered hopes, their haunted cries,
I stood like shelter in their rain,
and dried their tears beneath my skies.

But with each soul I tried to save,
a piece of me was torn away,
and now I float, a hollow grave,
where light and breath no longer stay.

They leaned on me, I bore it all,
became their strength when they had none,
but now I feel the endless fall,
my fight exhausted, hope undone.

They left me here, my hands bound tight,
upon a sea not meant for me,
no rescue ship, no distant light,
just endless waves and memory.

The sky grows pale, the stars recede,
my name dissolves in whispered foam,
I fade beneath what none could see,
forgotten, lost, adrift, alone.
  

Please,
if you ever loved me,
let me go.
Don’t clutch my wings in shattered hands,
don’t chain me where no light can flow.

You say it’s love to keep me near,
to bind my flight beneath your sky,
but every whisper sharp with fear
becomes the reason why I cry.

Every breath inside this cage
scrapes my ribs like rusted wire,
I am burning in your quiet rage,
consumed beneath unspoken fire.

You cradle me with broken palms,
yet hold me tight in silent screams,
you drown me softly with your qualms,
and steal the color from my dreams.

I cannot carry what you lost,
nor wear your grief like borrowed skin,
the price was high, I count the cost,
and feel the war you keep within.

My voice is cracking through the night,
my soul, collapsing at your gate,
I’m begging you beneath this fight:
don’t call this mercy, this is fate.

Set me free, please,
release the weight that crushes bone,
don’t call your chains a gift to me,
when all I crave is air alone.

Love is not this heavy stone,
not hands that clutch until they bleed,
if you ever loved me, truly known,
you'd see my flight is what I need.

Let me rise beyond your grief,
beyond the shadows you defend,
for only then can hearts find peace,
in letting go, we sometimes mend.
  

I dug my fingers in the dirt,
my nails torn raw, my skin worn thin,
refusing still to taste the hurt,
or let you see me break within.

Though every breath was edged with pain,
and shadows clawed to pull me down,
I kindled embers through the rain,
and wore my courage like a crown.

Your tangled roots reached for my soul,
twisting tight around my spine,
whispers tried to take control,
but this heart will not resign.

I’ve danced through nights of hollow cries,
through silent wars you’ll never see,
but in the darkness, stars still rise,
and light remains inside of me.

With every tear, with every scar,
I plant my seeds beneath the ache,
a wildflower blooming far,
in soil that only strength can break.

I break the ground, I break the chains,
I rise from wounds you left behind,
through storms and sorrow, loss and rains,
my roots grow fierce, untamed, aligned.

I stand where once I thought I’d fall,
a garden wild, alive, reborn,
no longer caged, no longer small,
but fierce, and soft, and battle-worn.

You tried to bury all I am,
but planted me instead,
and now I bloom where flames began,
with petals bright where ashes bled.
  

The fire crept beneath the soil,
where once my tender garden grew,
where every seed, through years of toil,
had dreamed beneath the morning dew.

You lit the match with careless hands,
with eyes that never saw my tears,
igniting lies like shifting sands,
erasing all our fragile years.

The flames, they danced through roots and leaves,
devouring dreams in crimson waves,
the wind howled through my hollowed grief,
as love collapsed into its grave.

You watched the blaze with distant eyes,
unmoved by all that turned to dust,
while I knelt under blackened skies,
still reaching for a dying trust.

My world, once vibrant, rich, and green,
now stood in shadows, torn apart,
its beauty lost to what had been,
a graveyard for my broken heart.

But even as the embers sighed,
a lesson whispered through the flame:
to lose, to break, to burn, to cry,
is not the end, it bears my name.

For fire teaches hearts to burn,
to shed the weight of what decays,
to break, to bend, and yet return,
and bloom again in different ways.

Beneath the ash, beneath the pain,
new roots will curl through blackened ground,
and with the storms, and with the rain,
a stronger soul will rise unbound.

So I will rise from scorched remains,
though all was torn, though all was lost,
my wings will stretch through smoke and chains,
a phoenix shaped by every cost.

In wildfire’s breath, I find my grace,
reborn beyond what flames consume,
for even ruin leaves a trace,
a place where I may bloom.
  

There’s comfort in the tangled roots,
though they confine and cling,
like lullabies sung in bitter truths,
or the ache that time can bring.

I learned to live with heavy chains,
to wear my scars with grace,
to find the peace inside the pains,
and in that, find my place.

The roots that bind me to the past
are threads of who I am,
a twisted story, built to last,
my grief, my strength, my plan.

So here I stand, both bruised and whole,
a garden fierce and wild,
with tangled roots that shape my soul,
and make me still a child.
  

We tied our hearts in reckless knots,
with trembling hands and blinded eyes,
entangled threads that time forgot,
beneath the aching, bitter skies.

Bound in passion, raw and wild,
we chased a flame too fierce to hold,
two souls both tender and defiled,
lost in stories left untold.

In love that neither heals nor rots,
but lingers like a haunting tune,
a melody that softly mocks,
beneath the hollow, distant moon.

You pull me close, then push away,
your touch a spark, your breath a storm,
a dance where shadows twist and sway,
in patterns neither soft nor warm.

I’m lost within the shades of gray,
where right and wrong dissolve to dust,
where night devours the edge of day,
and love becomes a fragile trust.

Your silence screams inside my veins,
a choir of ghosts I cannot flee,
your absence hums like steady rain,
that drowns the deepest part of me.

I wander through our shattered maze,
each memory sharp, each promise bruised,
still craving you through endless haze,
forever torn, forever used.

Yet still I linger in these chains,
the prison built by both our hands,
a paradox of love and pain,
that neither one can understand.

Maybe someday these knots will break,
like dawn that melts the stubborn frost,
or slowly loosen, soft and late,
restoring all we nearly lost.

Until that day, I’ll stay awake,
a captive of what once could be,
drowning in the ache we make,
and tethered to your ghost of me.
  

In the stillness of the night,
when even the stubborn stars refuse to shine,
I sit beneath the hollow sky,
where silence wraps around my spine.

I hear your voice, a fragile light,
like distant winds that softly moan,
a ghost that drifts through shattered time,
where once we stood, now I'm alone.

You left your shadows in my room,
etched upon the walls like scars,
they move with me through every gloom,
like silent echoes of who we are.

The air still holds your whispered breath,
like phantom fingers on my skin,
a dance between life, love, and death,
where once your heartbeat lived within.

I trace the shape of empty space,
where your hand would fit in mine,
and though I search your absent face,
only tears respond in kind.

I reach for what I cannot touch,
the warmth that slipped like sand through glass,
the tenderness I miss too much,
each moment lost that cannot pass.

The nights are long, the mornings cold,
the days a blur of quiet ache,
the story that we left untold,
a song my shattered heart still makes.

But even in this endless dark,
beneath the weight of what remains,
a tiny flame ignites a spark,
and softly calls your name through chains.

Hope tiptoes through my broken chest,
a fragile thread I dare not break,
it whispers that beyond this test,
someday, your soul I'll once more take.

Until that day, I hold you near,
inside the cracks where light gets through,
my love, my loss, my constant tear,
forevermore, I wait for you.
  

My roots are tangled in the earth,
a mess of sorrow, grief, and thread,
the echoes of my broken birth,
the ghosts of all you left unsaid.

You tried to hold me with your fears,
to shape me in your empty mold.
You fed me silence, blame, and tears,
and called me fragile, weak, and cold.

But even roots that twist and bind
cannot suppress the will to grow.
I searched for light, for love, for something kind,
for something softer I could know.

Now see me rise through tangled ground,
my leaves like hands that catch the sun.
You lost me where your shame was bound,
but I have only just begun.

Your roots may stay beneath my feet,
but they no longer own my sky.
I’m tangled, yes, but still complete.
I live. I bloom. I breathe. I fly.
  

I bloomed beneath your blinded gaze,
in quiet corners, out of sight.
You never saw my dawns, my praise,
you only named my failing light.

I watered wounds with hidden tears,
sang songs to roots you never fed,
and in my loneliest of years,
I learned to rise where hope had bled.

You measured me by wilted leaves,
you scolded storms I couldn’t tame,
but never saw the breath that breathes
beneath the weight of your own shame.

You missed the colors in my veins,
the gentle petals I unfurled,
while you were counting all my stains,
I was creating my own world.

And now my blossoms stretch and bend,
beyond the reach of bitter hands.
This garden grew without your end,
I am the bloom you’ll never understand
  

You planted me in poisoned ground,
then blamed my leaves for turning pale.
You never heard the silent sound
of dreams that withered, small and frail.

Your words were thorns dressed up as care,
your love, a vine that pulled me tight.
You pruned my joy, stripped me bare,
and dimmed my soul to steal my light.

Yet still my heart kept reaching out,
my petals strained toward distant skies.
While you sowed shadows, fear, and doubt,
my spirit learned to still arise.

Now I unearth each buried pain,
I tear the roots that made me bleed.
With trembling hands I break the chain
and plant my freedom like a seed.

The soil still bears the scars you left,
but in its cracks, new life is grown,
a garden not of wounds bereft,
but blooms I dared to call my own.
  

You draped your sorrow 'round my neck,
a heavy chain of tarnished gold,
and called it love, a cruel, sharp wreck,
a legacy I can't uphold.

You spoke of duty, blood, and name,
and stitched my heart into your grief.
You taught me love should feel like shame,
like silent wounds that find no relief.

But I am not your vessel, no.
I am not built to bear your fall.
Your pain was planted long ago,
but it does not define me all.

I break the links, I free my breath,
I rise from guilt’s unholy flame,
your hands may build my past in death,
but they won’t write my future’s name.

Let loyalty dissolve like mist,
let obligation lose its hold.
I’ll write my life with gentler fists
and bloom from soil you left cold.
  

I carry scars beneath my smile,
old echoes stitched in crooked thread,
where voices tangled, loud and vile,
built homes of shame inside my head.

The roots run deep beneath my skin,
each one a whisper from the past,
a bitter seed that settled in
and grew where light was fading fast.

I wore their guilt like second skin,
believed their stories as my own,
but now I trace the hurt within
and plant a garden all my own.

For every lie that they confessed,
for every chain they tried to bind,
I trade their weight for gentler rest,
untangling threads they left behind.

Though roots remain beneath the ground,
above, my branches start to sway,
toward softer winds, a sweeter sound,
where dawn will melt the night away.