14d • General discussion
Halo Bent, Heart in Riot
I wake up wired and tired, halo crooked, smile cracked,
heart on a bender, brain doing donuts on the track.
I love too loud, I feel too fast, I burn then I retreat,
lipstick prayers and blunt smoke curls at the devil’s feet.
I’m a wildfire wrapped in velvet, sweet chaos in boots,
stoned philosophy at sunrise, whiskey-truths in my roots.
I’ll ghost my demons, then invite them back for a drink,
we’ll laugh about the damage and the mess that I think.
Some days I’m lightning—kiss the sky, scream I’m alive,
other days I’m ocean-floor quiet, just trying to survive.
I swing between saints and sinners like a wrecking-ball heart,
breaking patterns, breaking mirrors, breaking down works of art.
I’m not fragile, I’m volatile, there’s a difference, babe,
I don’t shatter when I’m shaken—I rearrange.
I bleed poetry, curse fluently, heal crooked and slow,
I make a home in the ruins just to see if it grows.
Call me difficult, dramatic, too much, too real,
I’ll call it honesty raw enough you can feel.
I don’t do small talk, I do soul-deep dives,
I don’t fake peace, I set fire to lies.
I’ve danced with the darkness, flirted hard with the edge,
made deals with my shadow I’ll probably never hedge.
I’ve loved like a riot, left scars and songs,
said “fuck it” out loud when the nights got long.
I’m mascara streaks and leather dreams,
heartbreak anthems, midnight screams.
I’m rebel hope with a halo bent,
a broken compass still heaven-sent.
I get high on truth, low on sleep,
promise too much, feel too deep.
I’ll save myself, then sabotage,
then rise again—don’t call it odd.
This isn’t a phase, it’s a survival style,
smiling through hell with a dangerous smile.
I don’t need fixing, I need space to be,
wild, messy, honest, unapologetically me.
So if I scare you, good—means I’m alive,
means I won’t shrink just to help you survive.
I’m a chorus of chaos, a scream and a prayer,
half wrecked, half healed, fully fucking aware.
Love me loud or leave me alone,
I’ve built my throne out of broken bones.
I’m not your angel, not your sin—
I’m the song you feel in your chest when the night caves in.
And I’ll keep burning, blooming, breaking through,
with my head in the clouds and my boots soaked in truth.
Bipolar brilliance, stoned grace, scarred art—
a wild-ass anthem with a runaway heart.
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Halo Bent, Heart in Riot
