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Midnight confessions

At midnight hearts begin to speak, The strong grow fragile, lost, and weak. The silence opens every door, To hidden truths we can’t ignore. Midnight confessions softly fall, Like shadows dancing on the wall. The words we hide through all the day, Find moonlit courage on their way. “I miss you” sounds much more sincere, When only stars are left to hear. And broken souls stop wearing masks, Beneath the night that never asks. Perhaps the dark was always kind, A place where truth could breathe and shine. For hearts speak loudest after scars, In whispered talks beneath the stars.

Where the wild roses grow

Where the Wild Roses Grow

Where the wild roses grow…
The air feels softer somehow,
Like the world forgot its cruelty
For just a little while.

Petals dance with the evening wind,
Red and pink beneath golden light,
Growing freely, beautifully,
Without asking permission to bloom.

And there, among their quiet beauty,
My heart feels lighter too—
Less afraid of being fragile,
Less afraid of being seen.

Because wild roses do not hide their thorns,
Yet they still open to the sun.

Maybe that’s what healing is…
Learning that you can carry your scars
And still become something beautiful.

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