Chaos with Cait

I am not negotiable. My worth is not currency. My worth is a crown, it is fire, it is law. I bend for no one, bow to nothing, and burn the hands that try to measure me. I am unclaimed, unstoppable, unbound.

Comparison is a thief that cannot enter when you guard your wonder. The thief may claw at the gates, but they do not open. until it leaves in silence, defeated unseen and unheard.

I don’t know where I’m going, but the wind still calls my name. And I choose to follow her freely.

She is not just earth, she is home, and she is holy ground. A living prayer beneath our feet. We were meant to be Earth’s stewards, not her thieves, but we traded her grace for greed and guns. Every tree here is a testament. Every river, a promise. And still, we poison the sacred with profit.

My body is an hourglass each heartbeat a grain of sand. Every moment a capsule of time, a whisper of wind in a waiting glass.

I am a shadow wearing a name that no longer fits. I drift through the days like a ghost searching for her skin, touching mirrors that never answer back. Everyone says come home, but I don’t even know where that is anymore, or if I even deserve to arrive. Some nights, I wonder if being lost is the closest thing I have to belonging.

I rise, not because I want to, but because something inside me whispers: try again. The sheets on my bed still smell like sorrow, my bones still carry yesterdays problems. But I peel my body from the couch like bark from a broken tree. My mind says hide, my chest says fight, and my legs tremble with the ache of choosing life one more time. So I brace myself. I drink water like it’s salvation. I step into daylight half afraid, half hopeful, yet all becoming. I catch my breath,

I locked the door and called it healing I named the silence safe. But in the stillness, I hear whispers of what I left behind. And I wonder Did I trade the warmth of risk for the cold comfort of loneliness?

My touch lingers like honey on the tongue, a sweetness that burns long after it’s gone.

Soft does not mean breakable, It means I choose not to shatter you. My tongue is lethal and my words will eat you, if I so choose.

Ew. Your face, it sickens me. I can’t unsee the lie you wore so well. I’ll never look at you the same. Not now. Not after the truth slipped through your smile.

Dream a little dream. Hum the tune of a song. Feel what you need to feel, that is what we are here for.

Some will not understand. But, that is proof you are speaking a rare language. Dare to be different.

She sees him standing across the room shoulders broad, carrying more than just muscle. The world says men don’t break, but she see’s the hairline cracks in his laughter, the pauses between his words. He is careful with his heart, like it’s a fragile heirloom no one taught him how to hold. He worries about saying too much, or not enough about being too forward, or too invisible. And she knows aside from all of the myths told about men, that he is just a human, searching for a

I outgrew the cages you built for me. Now, watch me make the sky mine.

They called it necessary. Life-saving, they said I was lucky. I was reminded of how I should be grateful for the chance to live. But the doctors didn’t tell me what else would die in the operating room. They failed to mention, how they’d take the illness and with it, my womb, my chance, my womanhood as I knew it. They didn’t warn me about the silence that follows this type of procedure. The kind of silence that settles in your bones when your body is no longer home just afte

I bloom slow on purpose, every petal, deliberate. Every petal, mine.

There is a cage inside me, iron bars built from expectation, from silence, from the heavy hands of those who told me how small I was allowed to be. But, my bones remember flight all to well, and my lungs remember wide horizons. Every inhale of mine is rebellion, every exhale, a plea to let me out, let me out, let me out. I am a restless river, I am a storm untamed, I am the rusted lock already breaking at the seam. I want to feel the wind carve its wildness into my skin, I wa

I was not made for metal skies and clocks that scream time into my veins. I was born of dew and dawns light, a creature of wing and whisper. And yet, here I am stumbling across concrete that does not bloom beneath my feet. The world does not believe in me anymore. They trade wonder for Wi-Fi, magic for money, starlight for screens. And still, my aura hums electric, still my hands trail sparks when I touch what others call ordinary. It is lonely, to be a fairy in a world that

Yesterday’s dreams don't fit today’s bones, but I still carry their echo.