A Thousand Deaths
You thought the pain would take you whole, A silent thief, a swallowed soul. Each breath a weight, each step a war, You begged the night: "No more, no more." But morning came, it always does, Without your strength, without because. And still you rose, on trembling knees, Through hours that dragged like dying trees. You didn’t scream — the silence knew, The cracks it echoed back to you. Each day, a copy of the last, A future shackled to the past. You eat, you walk, you nod, you smile, And cry when no one's seen you in a while. A thousand deaths, and still no grave, Just one more part of you to save. They say that time will heal, repair— But time just sits beside despair. Yet here you are, despite the ache, Still waking up, still staying awake.
Comments
Post a Comment