timesnewrania

i would introduce myselfas a kind of organised chaosthe kind that looks scattered from a distance,like nothing quite belongs where it should.but if you stayed,if you really looked,you'd see the patternthreaded quietly beneath it all.

i crave structurenot the kind that cages,not the kind that presses walls too close to breathebut the kind that holds me just enoughto let me wander safely into the unknown.

i am not made for boxes,for neat lines or predictable endings.i need the sudden turn,the unplanned thought,the moment where everything spillsand somehow still makes sense.because my chaos has never been careless.it is deliberate.a quiet rebellion that always finds its way back into meaning.and somewhere between the order and the unraveling,i become myself.

a word that drifts through my mindyet i wonder if i've ever truly felt it

what if the past doesn't need to haunt mebecause what i have nowis already what i once dreamed of

what if the fading memoriesaren't just echoesbut seeds growing into the futurewe're building hand in hand

laughter after laughterthese peoplemy peoplethese are the stories i'll keep

not a longing for yesterdaybut a reminderthat today is enough

maybe nostalgia never came to memaybe i never needed itbecause life with themis already whole.

in the realm of love's bittersweet embrace,i find myself torn, embraced and misplaced.for perhaps we were destined to nurture and fade,like roses, shed petals on this earthly stage.

that fragile touch, a tender force untamed,broke our roses, scattered petals unclaimed.now we tread upon separate promises,paths unknown, adorned by diverse flowers, colors not our own.

lost within, a mere visitor of my own mind,captivated by the task, a flower to revive and find.yet you journey toward clarity, a crystal-clear quest,while i remain entangled in the opposite, unrest.

i can love you, oh how love shall flow,but how can i resurrect dead petals, i must know?how much water, how much love must i sow,when all is in vain, for the flower no longer glows.

the sun's rays, they pierce, but to no avail,for the bloom is disrupted, lifeless and frail.