Creativity, imagination, and innovation are not only tools of art; they are instruments of social justice, reshaping how we see and change the world.

-

My birthday falls on the sixteenth of August.
When I was little, school was always closed after Independence Day.
I would get upset with my father,
angry that I couldn’t celebrate with friends in class.

He would tell me, “You were born after freedom
because you could never have been a slave.
You were meant to live your life freely.”
I think that stayed with me, not sure about him.
since then, no rule or control has ever felt real.

I take this day literally and seriously.
HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY :)

-

You make my chest breathe soft and slow,
Like rain that hums on thirsty ground.
With you, I learn what love can show,
A quiet joy that wraps me round.
You're where my heart feels safe to go.

-

Same Love, Unequal Pain

Somewhere you wait, smiling, dreaming of us.
So do I, but with shaking hands and sleepless eyes.
Same love we share, same hope to meet.
Still, my seconds burn while yours softly pass.
Some nights I cry just to stay sane.
Shoulders ache from holding back the storm.
Still you love me, still you care,
Still, I suffer ten times more.

-

My body sleeps next to yours, but my soul walks alone.
My thirst cracks like droughted earth; yours sips from rain.
My eyes bleed for a gaze you don’t know you withhold.
My love is a fever; yours a gentle evening breeze.
My need howls in the quiet; yours hums in content silence.
My hours ache for you; yours pass peacefully through me.
My chest carries weight while you stay light in love.
My agony is a mystery to you, your heart cannot decode.

-

Beneath the hush of night I burn, alone
My skin remembers what the mind disowns.
Each moan is not of lust, but ache and ache
A body's cry no will can still or fake.

-

They say marriage is the fruit of love
but I’ve seen it rot on the branch.
I’ve watched hands once trembling with desire
grow still beneath the weight of formality.

Families gather in rooms full of walls,
not warmth
breaking what they never built,
naming control as tradition,
and fear as care.

-

What is the difference—tree and me?
It in the hush, I in the spree.
Yet both unheard, both grieved alone,
Both craved a touch, a softened tone.

-

To be mad in love—what a tender torment it is,
a sweet ache I would suffer a thousand times over,
for even in its ruin, it sings of something real and rare.

-

his heart





the love
he expresses, never..

-