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Heart of Stone

He built his dreams with fire and steel,   Through sweat and pain, through grit and will.   His path was carved with silent nights,   A war he waged beyond the sights.   But love, so sweet, so soft, so near,   Whispered dreams into his ear.   A choice was placed upon his chest—   His passion’s flame, or love’s request.   He turned away from burning light,   Held her close, embraced the night.   Yet soon he found, to his dismay,   Both love and purpose slipped away.   For goals demand a heart of stone,   And love still longs to call its own.   To chase one means to lose the fight,   To hold both tight is rarest might.   So walk the road with eyes aware,   Choose with wisdom, choose with care.   For once you drop what makes you whole,   You lose the fire—and lose your soul.
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Masking The Strain

Some days, it's fine—I'm okay, I swear,  
Shrugging off burdens too heavy to bear.  
"I don’t care," I whisper, masking the strain,  
Hiding the echoes of silent pain.  

Then comes the weight, pressing me low,  
"I don’t know how much more I can go."  
Torn between numbness and breaking apart,  
A battlefield deep in the cracks of my heart.  

One moment, I smile, convincing, composed,  
The next, I unravel—exposed and enclosed.  
A cycle unspoken, a storm in my mind,  
Fighting for balance, but balance won’t find.  

Yet through the shifting, the highs and the lows,  
A flicker of hope in the darkness still glows.  
Maybe one day, the battle will cease,  
And the war inside will quiet to peace.

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