Step right up
win a prize you can’t hold twice

Cotton-candy thunder on my tongue
Ferris wheel halos coming undone
Neon freckles on your cheek by the lights
You say “let’s ride the tilt-a-life”
Fortune-teller winks behind her beads
Pulls our future like a string of beads
Goldfish promises in plastic bags
Prize booth smiles with paper tags

Every game is rigged by design
But I’m still tossing rings at your line
You say “aim low”—I aim high
Watch the bottle kiss the sky

Heartbreak carnival, step right in
Win me once and lose me again
Kiss me quick by the carousel glow
We spin till we forget what we know
Sugar on the tears, glitter in the grit
Laugh till the cracks don’t fit
Heartbreak carnival, lights go thin
Win me once—then play again

Hey—throw, miss, try
Hey—don’t ask why

Photo booth ghosts in strip number three
Half of me smiling, half wanting to leave
We trade tickets for a paper crown
Ride the bumper hearts up and down
Fire-breather warms the midnight air
I breathe you in like a reckless dare
House of mirrors makes two of you
I chase the wrong one, just to see it through

Every prize looks gold in the dark
But melts like taffy on my heart
You say “this way”—I say “when”
We cross the rope and run again

Ring toss halo, miss my head
Strongman hammer hits regret
Cotton candy, blue and red
Two colors make a violet dread
Ticket-taker tears my name
Hands it back—“another game?”
I nod like it’s a sacred vow
Pull the lever, hear it howl

Spin the wheel—no numbers land
Hold my fear like a prize in your hand
Ride goes up—don’t say when
Scream it out, breathe it in

Last ride, last light, last laugh, friend
Same booth, new heart, see you again 

No announcements.
No destination.
Just motion,
without a map.
The kind of quiet
you don’t come back from.

The windows show a world erased,
just shadows moving out of place,
abandoned towns and empty signs,
a loop that plays but skips in time.
I sit alone in car thirteen,
where ghosts remember what we mean.
Your name is carved into the glass,
a question no one ever asked.

I’m the last passenger on a broken train,
riding through the static rain.
Each station gone before it came,
the tracks don’t end, they just remain.
The lights all hum, but never glow,
the future’s here, but moving slow.
I’m the last passenger on a broken train,
and no one knows.

The seats still hold forgotten coats,
the echoes hum in minor notes.
A voice once called out every stop,
but now the names have all been dropped.
You left your book on seat 9A;
I read the page you tore away.
It said, “We leave, but not the same,”
and vanished like a phantom flame.

They say the train runs out of time,
but no one sees it stop.
Just
slows
until the world forgets
it ever moved
at all.

If you were here, would you recall
the final ride before the fall?
Or would you fade into the track
and never think of coming back?

The tracks remember,
even if no one else does.
This motion
was once
a destination. 

I wear my heart where the world can see,
Folded edges, parts of me.
Every scar just proves I’ve been,
Learning strength beneath my paper skin.

"It’s okay to be fragile… that’s where the light gets in."

I’ve been torn, but I still believe,
There’s beauty in the way I bleed.
I bend, I crack, but I don’t give in,
There’s sunlight hiding in my paper skin.

Paper skin, I’m delicate but real,
Every tear reminds me how I heal.
I’ve been broken, but I let light in,
That’s the magic living in my paper skin.

The wind can bruise, the rain can sting,
But I keep moving through everything.
Every mark’s a memory pinned,
To the map that makes my paper skin.

"Every fold tells a story… mine isn’t over yet."

"You see through the folds… and you stay."
I’m not afraid of where I’ve been,
There’s strength inside my paper skin.

Paper skin, I’m delicate but strong,
I’ve been quiet, but I’ve sung all along.
Every scar’s a story from within,
And I’ve learned to love my paper skin.

"Fragile… but unbroken." 

Tried to log in today…
System said: “Face not found.”
Guess I got deleted while I slept.

Mirror shows a shape that looks like me
But the scanner blinks in disbelief
Every street cam turns its eyes
But none of them can recognize

Unknown… unseen…

My reflection fades to wireframe
I’m the ghost inside a broken name
The world can’t track what slipped away
But I still breathe another day

I got those facial recognition blues
System says I’m someone it can’t use
No profile left, no barcode clue
Digital world just lost my truth

But maybe I’m finally slipping through
I don’t exist—
and that feels new

Identity: not found.

I waved at the door—didn’t open.
Every lock pretends I’m broken
The cameras blink like they’re confused
Like I’m a rumor they once used

Erased… erased…

I’m just pixels out of place
A missing value…
empty space

File corrupt…
Name unknown…
Clearance revoked…
Access postponed…

Who am I if the system can’t see me?

I got those facial recognition blues
World won’t accept the face I choose
I faded out, escaped the queue
And now I’m free—
with nothing left to prove

Zero… zero… zero…

You are not recognized.
You are not recorded.
You are not required.

Maybe that’s freedom…
after all. 

Welcome to the Lost & Found for Feelings.
Take a number.
Check your pockets.
Sometimes they hide in the lining.

Bell on the door, dust in the sun,
names on the tags, one by one.
“Joy at dusk,” “calm on the bus,”
“laugh I lost when life got rough.”
Clerk writes slow with a lavender pen,
“Tell me where you had it then.”
I point to a week I can’t rewind—
she nods like time is being kind.

Shelves of “nearly,” drawers of “soon,”
light on boxes labeled “June.”

Lost & Found for feelings, I’m here for mine,
something small I dropped in line.
If you see my courage, save me a room—
claim ticket reads: “brave at noon.”
Hold it up to the morning bloom—
claim ticket reads: “brave at noon.”

Number twenty-three—step forward, please.

Tiny suitcase full of sighs,
polaroids of better tries.
Someone finds their “sleep through storms,”
wraps it round like borrowed warmth.
I try on “hope,” it almost fits,
loose at the seams, but I commit.
Clerk smiles, slides a small cocoon—
“Open gently, blooms by noon.”

If it trembles, let it be,
some hearts wake politely.

What did you lose?
You can say it softly.
We’re not here to judge it, just to name it.

List the little vanishings,
keys to doors of everyday things.
“Trust on Tuesdays,” “hands that help,”
“voice that asks instead of yells.”
She hums a tune the shelves know well,
rings a bell that breaks the spell.
In the quiet, something moves—
my name on a folded proof.

Breathe in.
Try it on.
No rush.

Lost & Found for feelings, I’m here for mine,
something small I dropped in line.
If you see my courage, save me a room—
claim ticket reads: “brave at noon.”
Wear it now, let the daylight zoom—
claim ticket reads: “brave at noon.”

Brave at noon, brave at noon,
I’ll meet myself by early afternoon.

Keep your stub—come back if you need to.
We hold things kindly here.
Brave at noon… brave at noon…
See you soon. 

No one leaves here…
They just stop moving.

Neon flickers through the rain,
Rooms remember every name.
Keys hang quiet, walls breathe low,
Echoes hum where lost souls go.

Vacant hearts in numbered tombs,
Drift forever through empty rooms.

Welcome to the Graveyard Motel,
Where time forgets and shadows dwell.
Check in once, your fate is sealed,
In silence deep, your truth revealed.

I asked the clerk for a room with a view…
He pointed to the mirror.

Curtains sway, the air stands still,
The night hums soft, the void drinks its fill.
Every knock is déjà vu,
Every face a shade I knew.

The clock in the lobby…
Only ticks when you look away.

Dusty hymns through static play,
The past won’t fade — it likes to stay.
Dreams hang low in amber haze,
Unending nights, uncounted days.

I left once…
But the door led back inside.

Hallways bend, and walls recall,
Every whisper, every fall.
Ghosts still hum in faded rooms,
Their lullabies become our tombs.

We keep the lights on… for memory’s sake.

So rest your head, the night is kind —
At the Graveyard Motel…
You’ll never mind. 

The lights still hum,
but no one’s watching.
We perform
for memory,
and the dust
still listening.

The red velvet hangs like a dream in decay,
dust motes dancing in a silver ballet.
Your voice once echoed off painted wood,
now silence answers like only silence could.
Scripts forgotten, cues erased,
but I still see your shadow take its place.
A spotlight flickers, no one claps,
but something in the dark looks back.

Velvet shadows on a forgotten stage,
where the ghosts still turn the page.
You took your bow, then slipped away,
but your role still haunts the play.
Every line you ever said
still echoes in my head.
Velvet shadows in the afterglow
of a show
no one knows.

The dressing room mirror is cracked with time,
but it reflects your face with mine.
Costumes folded, laced in grey,
perfume fading into yesterday.
Your laughter lingers in the wings,
a trace of broken violin strings.
I mouth the words we used to say
as if they’d bring you back today.

We were never meant to last,
just shimmer briefly
under the lights
and vanish
before the silence could applaud.

If this is the final scene,
will you still remember me?
A monologue without a name,
still reaching
through the flame.

We never left the stage,
we just
became
part of the set. 

This was the center
of everything once.
Now it just breathes
quietly,
like a dream
you forgot you were in.

Glass doors frozen in a loop,
sunlight bleeding through the roof.
Mannequins in frozen pose,
selling silence, dressed in ghost.
The fountain still, the music gone,
but echoes hum a phantom song.
I walk past stores with names erased,
each one a shrine to yesterday.

In the dead mall, time won’t break;
it just folds back into the fake.
Neon signs that softly weep,
and escalators lost in sleep.
You were here, or maybe not;
your voice is stitched into the rot.
In the dead mall, we remain
as echoes in the chain.

Food court chairs in crooked rows,
abandoned keys and brittle notes.
Soft pretzel smell, a phantom trace,
dripping through fluorescent haze.
Your face reflected in the glass,
but only when I’m walking past,
like memory forgot to fade
and left your shape inside the gray.

This is the afterimage
of everything we loved.
The carpet remembers
the footsteps,
even if no one else does.

I wait beneath the atrium,
where time forgot which way to run.
You held my hand in aisle nine;
now all that’s left
is exit signs.

In the dead mall, the lights still blink,
but no one’s left to even think.
The speaker hums a broken tune,
that ends too late, or just too soon.
You were here, or maybe not,
but something lingers in the rot.
In the dead mall, we remain
as echoes in the chain.

They never closed it,
just
forgot to open it
again. 

They say pixels don’t cry…
But mine are falling anyway.

Neon rain across my screen
Broken hearts in electric green
Every smile, a fractured light
Every laugh, a data byte

Corrupt… lost…

Lines of code feel like salt on skin
I try to hide, but the errors win

Don’t look… don’t look…

Pixel tears, falling from my eyes
Glitching love in digital skies
I’m a ghost in a neon stream
Crying for a world that’s just a dream

Pixel tears, burning on the grid
All my feelings, forever hid
Lost in code, I disappear
But my pixel tears still appear

Notifications hum like broken glass
Scrolling memories I can’t surpass
Every friend a flicker, every touch a fade
All my moments perfectly remade

Fade… fade…

Error 37…
Emotion overflow…
Warning: memory leaking…
Warning: love corrupted…

I’m still here… somewhere…

Fragments of me… scattered…

Lost in servers that don’t care
Pixel tears remind me
I existed somewhere there

Don’t delete me…

Even if the world erases me…
Even if the screens forget…
Pixel tears will fall…
Pixel tears will fall… 

Welcome to the ledger of your mind…
Every tear… every laugh… accounted.

Smile too wide, your credit dips
Cry too long, your balance slips
Happiness is a taxable act
Sadness… equally tracked

Accounted… monitored…

Deposit… withdraw…
Every feeling costs a price
Every thought under ice

Emotion tax, pay for how you feel
Every heartbeat is a bureaucratic deal
Happiness deducted, sadness fined
I can’t own the life that’s mine

Smile… pay… frown… pay…

I laughed at a joke… overdrafted my soul
The meter keeps counting, taking its toll
I cried for no reason… overdrawn
The ledger mocks me from dusk to dawn

Debit… credit…

Emotion detected…
Emotion measured…
Penalty assessed…
Compliance required…

We are numbers, not people, tonight

Every tear… taxed…
Every laugh… taxed…
Freedom of feeling…
Locked in ledgers, masked…

Emotion tax, the state controls my mind
Every feeling underlined
No joy, no grief… only debt
Living life in a fiscal net

Ledger closed…
Balance due…
Emotion… overdue…