No sympathy

I’m drifting through the void,

where the silence knows my name.

Broken glass beneath my feet,

every step reopening the same old wounds.

I’m haunted by the things I said

and everything I swallowed whole.

There’s a war behind my eyes,

and every night it takes another piece of me.

I run from the wreckage,

but it follows where I go.

I bury the memories deep,

but they claw their way back to the surface.

Midnight stains the window,

neon bleeding through the rain.

I hear every door I slammed,

every promise I broke,

every version of myself

I tried to leave behind.

I built a wall around my heart

and called it protection.

Then I wondered why I couldn’t feel.

Now I’m choking on the silence

of everything I was too afraid to say.

Maybe I’m the shattered glass.

Maybe I’m the hand that threw it.

Maybe I’ve been running from the truth

because the truth has always been me.

I can’t change yesterday.

But tonight

I can choose what happens next.

I can’t think.

I can’t breathe.

Everything I buried

is crawling back through the cracks.

I’m reckless.

I’m alive.

I’ve spent so long

looking through dead eyes

that I forgot what it felt like

to want something again.

But I want to live.

Not because the darkness disappeared.

Not because the scars stopped hurting.

But because they’re mine.

And they didn’t finish me.

The void is still beneath my feet.

The broken glass is still there.

But I’m standing on it.

And for the first time,

I’m not afraid of what I see.

I’m still here.

And I’m not disappearing.