Fading slowly, selling out many lifestyles
growing around the block,
staying invisible,
low-key like a ghost. Many lives live in front of my neighborhood;
We stay on earth with known problems and silent rewards.
West on the line, I listen to thoughts
from wannabe minds,
freeze my heart from fake appearances,
move cluelessly through the noise.
Everyone knows more than I do.
but I know I’m catching different moments—
trying not to be defensive,
keeping things simple. Family and friends stay close for the downfall.
judging quietly;
We stay low with our family drama.
I’ve lost my way —
No one is ready to stand tall.
Little minds justify,
trying to fit in, feeling lost in their path,
It’s hard to bring them to the real part.
So I just watch,
no time to look down again.
I’m twenty-seven
with a cold young face of nineteen.
My art—so childish,
But I don’t want to lose hope.
not wanting to become their own enemy.
I call my time out.
Lost in many little things,
watching my life being swallowed by the future.
Freedom Nation
My nature of writing comes from a place where I find freedom
with no clear direction —
dying a little inside my head,
moving like a quiet network,
making known differences in a world
That feels too loud to listen to. I keep hoping to save myself
from these characters playing out
the same movie scenes of survival.
Maybe my money-making journey
isn’t just about wealth—
maybe it’s my way out.
my freedom nation,
my one known chance. I hope some of you can relate
to these stories—
to feeling tired of begging
for the right time to feed social media,
of giving your energy
to things that waste away your peace.
They call you lazy
because they have bigger chances,
louder dreams,
but not more soul.
I’m trying not to think
about the striking energy of judgment;
maybe I’ll learn to stay lost.
to drift with no reason,
just to keep myself present,
unattached to anything,
because, at some point,
Everyone can turn against you.
more freedom
