Headlines talk in fire, I answer in code,
Public scars flash, private fractures erode.
Time loads the chamber, truth stays untold,
This year doesn’t end it starts to unfold.
JANUARY
The news says a blade learned a famous address,
walls failed, security blinked, blood answered the door.
I learned quieter violence
emails shaped like exits, praise wrapped around traps,
being asked to kneel by people who once learned how to stand from me.
No sirens.
Just the sound of self-respect grinding its teeth.
FEBRUARY
A voice on a screen ignites the country,
everyone shouting about limits, decency, law.
I watched my own limits rot politely.
Dreams packed away like winter clothes,
hands busy with dust, water, repetition
I clipped myself before anyone else could aim.
MARCH
A nation wins again, history replayed on loop,
gold held high where doubt can’t reach.
I won something too
then distrusted the silence that followed.
Chose the lower ground,
because at least it felt solid,
even if it bruised the knees
and rewrote my direction without asking.
APRIL
Tourists die where postcards used to breathe,
borders twitch like exposed nerves.
Inside me, maps burned.
Every decision fired a shot,
every compromise signed a temporary truce.
I wasn’t afraid of war
I was afraid of choosing the wrong side of myself.
MAY
Vermillion, night flights, clean language for dirty work.
I ran my own operation
tried to flush out the rot, protect the good,
but collateral damage doesn’t ask permission.
Some things you save.
Some things bleed out while you’re still planning.
JUNE
A Dreamliner forgets the sky,
hope collapses under its own weight.
I followed a signal that lost altitude
too many voices in the cockpit,
too many hands on the controls.
I learned how fast faith turns into wreckage
when surrounded by doubt wearing friendship.
JULY
Justice pauses, rewinds, contradicts itself.
Truth waits in holding cells.
My training wheels came off.
I bet everything
time, health, certainty
and learned the difference between risk and inevitability.
The house always collects something.
AUGUST
Strays rounded up, mercy revised,
life measured in injections and cages.
I met Matt
small body, stubborn heart,
eyes that still believed in extra chances.
I fought for one more chapter.
The calendar said no.
Some losses don’t teach lessons
they just take.
SEPTEMBER
A man is locked away for demanding land and voice.
Silence wins on paper.
I was sentenced too
to deadlines, fluorescent lights, endurance.
I sharpened myself on hours,
telling myself this was preparation,
not punishment.
OCTOBER
A shoe arcs through authority,
belief thrown instead of argued.
Festival lights flicker somewhere else.
My hands stayed on the keyboard,
sacrificing color for completion,
noise for progress.
Even fire needs permission to burn.
NOVEMBER
Metal erupts near monuments,
history absorbing fresh wounds.
I tried to block impact
took hits meant for others,
walked into a party older than I entered,
carrying damage no one applauds.
Survival doesn’t look heroic up close.
DECEMBER
I thought this month would erase me.
Instead, it wrote my name
then split it down the middle.
Pulled between blame I didn’t earn
and restraint I didn’t choose.
Carrying the weight of a moment refused
and a moment postponed,
watching rooms fill, bottles empty,
consequences echo louder than intent.
LISTEN 2026
Still
I bent reality just enough
to leave a mark.
Not a victory.
Not redemption.
Proof that despite the fractures,
despite the year trying to teach me silence,
I am still here, ain't me jumping..
breathing through damage,
standing in the wreckage,
unapologetically unfinished.
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