This Sucks_

This sucks, I say, with breath drawn tight,

When dreams collapse in dead of night,

When stars don't shine the way they should,

And fate forgets what’s bad or good.

It sucks — this pain that clings like thread

Across the hours I wish were dead.

It sucks when morning brings no peace,

When thoughts like storms refuse to cease.

When coffee cools untouched, ignored,

And silent screams go unexplored.

It sucks when friends don’t see your cries,

And laughter’s just a thin disguise.

It sucks to hope and be denied,

To give your all, then hear, “You tried.”

To watch the best of plans combust,

Turn golden dreams to scattered dust.

It sucks when silence weighs a ton,

When all your roads lead far from sun.

It sucks when words are sharp and cold,

When love grows distant, hard, and old.

When something sacred slips away,

And time refuses still to stay.

It sucks when memories turn to ash,

When joy burns out in just a flash.

This sucks — the ache of being stuck,

Of running fast yet out of luck.

Of hearts that beat without a spark,

Of voices echoing the dark.

Of days that blend in shades of grey,

Of colors bleeding all away.

It sucks when laughter turns to stone,

When crowded rooms still feel alone.

When mirrors mock the dreams you chased,

And youth feels like a fleeting taste.

It sucks when answers never come,

And numbness makes the body dumb.

It sucks to watch the seasons change,

While you remain, estranged, deranged.

To smile while breaking bit by bit,

To write brave lines, but never quit.

It sucks to fake the strength you show,

To walk through fire and none may know.

It sucks — but still, I breathe and rise,

I hide my wounds in calm disguise.

For in this suck, this endless night,

There burns a flicker faint with light.

And maybe that’s the irony,

That pain births rawest poetry.

It sucks — and yet, the soul still sings,

Of shattered hopes and broken wings.

It cries in ink, in chords, in art,

A testament to battered heart.

And though it hurts, I find a voice,

A bitter truth, a helpless choice.

This sucks — a truth I will not veil,

But I will write it, word for nail.

And every line that bleeds my soul

Will stitch a wound, will make me whole.

So let it suck, let sorrow sting,

For even that is something's wing.

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

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This sucks, I say, with breath drawn tight,

When dreams collapse in dead of night,

When stars don't shine the way they should,

And fate forgets what’s bad or good.

It sucks — this pain that clings like thread

Across the hours I wish were dead.

It sucks when morning brings no peace,

When thoughts like storms refuse to cease.

When coffee cools untouched, ignored,

And silent screams go unexplored.

It sucks when friends don’t see your cries,

And laughter’s just a thin disguise

It sucks — and yet, the soul still sings,

Of shattered hopes and broken wings.

It cries in ink, in chords, in art,

A testament to battered heart.

And though it hurts, I find a voice,

A bitter truth, a helpless choice.

This sucks — a truth I will not veil,

But I will write it, word for nail.

And every line that bleeds my soul

Will stitch a wound, will make me whole.

So let it suck, let sorrow sting,

For even that is something's wing.

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