𝚂𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚕

She was born from light, they said—

a shard of dawn in human skin,

but life does not gleam without the dead,

and light casts shadow, deep within.

*

Her voice was not a voice at all—

it tore the seams of silence raw,

a symphony of shattered time,

each note a fractal, cosmic law.

*

She screamed not out of pain alone,

but out of knowing, the loss of hope,

the stars she held behind her eyes

collapsed with the struggle to cope.

*

She bore the burden of the skies,

of questions time itself won't name—

why breath must end, why suns must die,

why even joy must end in flame.

*

The world called her divine and bright,

but missed the fracture in her glow,

where light refracted into grief

and gold grew heavy, slow, and low.

*

She screamed, and mountains turned to sand,

oceans curled to hear her grief—

for all her gold, her shining hands

still reached for unattainable relief.

*

Not madness, no—

but sacred rage,

the scream of stars inside a cage,

the cry of light when night descends,

the soul that burns and never ends.

Thank you for reading 😊

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