I sit in the corner, watching you smile,
Your laughter carries, but I’m lost in the aisle.
Your circle is bigger, their faces aglow,
And I fade like a shadow, nowhere to go.

I welcomed them warmly, said it’s all right,
Sharing your sunlight, not dimming your light.
But the distance grew wider, a space in between,
Now I’m just a ghost in the place we’ve been.

Do you see me standing, or am I a blur?
A relic of moments that once used to stir.
I’m not one to cling, I let the winds guide,
But it aches when your joy leaves me outside.

They cheer for your triumphs, you beam with pride,
But I see the change that you try to hide.
I miss the friend who’d lean on my heart,
Before this drift pulled our souls apart.

I’m not asking to take their place,
Or steal the warmth from your embrace.
Just a glance that says you still see,
The friend who’s waiting, quietly, me.

I carry the weight of yesterday,
Each memory etched, a price to pay.
The moments linger, sharp and cold,
Time moves forward, but grief takes hold.

I wear a smile they want to see,
A mask of who they think is me.
But underneath, the cracks run deep,
A fragile soul that cannot sleep.

Dreams I built have turned to stone,
Each promise broken leaves me alone.
Hands I reached for slipped away,
Fingers grasping at fading gray.

The world spins faster, I stand still,
A silent bystander to its will.
They say to heal, to let it go,
But how do you bury what you still know?

I’ve loved, I’ve lost, I’ve bled, I’ve fought,
For fleeting moments, for what? For naught.
The echo of laughter feels so cruel,
A hollow sound in an empty school.

What does it mean to truly live?
When there’s nothing left that life can give?
And yet, somehow, I’m still here,
A vessel of longing, drowning in fear.

But maybe there’s solace in this quiet ache,
A reminder of the heart I didn’t fake.
Perhaps the pain, though sharp, will fade,
A fragile hope in the mess I’ve made.

I walk through days that feel the same,
A hollow echo of forgotten names.
The world spins on, yet here I stand,
Worn out, broken, an empty hand.

Used to the silence, used to the pain,
A life soaked through with endless rain.
Every bruise, a story untold,
Each scar, a chapter I can’t unfold.

They laughed, they pointed, they broke me down,
Their words still haunt, their voices drown.
The mirror shows a face I don’t know,
A stranger lost, nowhere to go.

What’s the point of waking again?
To feel the sting, to fake, to pretend?
No reason, no purpose, just breathing air,
Loneliness cloaks me; life doesn’t care.

Yet somehow, in this shattered state,
I keep walking, defying fate.
A heart still beats, though torn apart,
Worn out, yes—but not without heart.

Only shadows know my name,
Never light, never flame.
Only silence fills my chest,
Never peace, never rest.

Only echoes answer back,
Never guiding, always black.
Only doubt clouds my view,
Never clarity, never true.

Only tears, crimson and cold,
Never a hand for me to hold.
Only memories, sharp as glass,
Never a future, stuck in the past.

Only trauma speaks to me,
Never words that set me free.
Only loneliness keeps me still,
Never hope, never will.

Only and never, my heart's refrain,
A life of longing, a soul in pain.
But even in this endless night,
I carry the ashes of a fading fight.

Lonely echoes in an empty room,
A hollow life, a quiet tomb.
Stupid steps on a broken track,
Forever falling, never back.

Unaware of the world outside,
Lost in shadows where I hide.
Blind to smiles, deaf to cheer,
All I feel is choking fear.

The past is heavy, it drags me low,
A storm of scars I’ll never show.
Trauma sings its haunting song,
A melody that lasts too long.

Tears of blood, they stain my face,
A crimson map of my disgrace.
Each drop a memory, sharp and deep,
A wound that wakes me from my sleep.

I scream for help, but no one hears,
My voice is drowned by silent fears.
A broken heart, a shattered mind,
Searching for a peace I’ll never find.

But still I stand, though frail and torn,
A fragile soul, bruised and worn.
Through blood and tears, I walk alone,
In this life that’s never felt my own.

At least I never wore a mask,
To hide the truth I dare not ask,
At least I walked a path so plain,
With every tear, with every pain.

At least my mind may stumble, slow,
But never cheats to steal a glow,
At least my heart, though bruised and torn,
Is never dark, is never worn.

At least I keep my secrets locked,
Where no one sees the dreams I’ve dropped,
At least I’ve learned to hold my pride,
Even when I’ve nowhere to hide.

At least I’m weak, but not a thief,
Not stealing joy or breaking belief,
At least I fight with all I’ve got,
Even when the world forgets my thought.

So here I stand, just as I am,
A soul not perfect, yet not ******,
At least I carry what is true,
Even when the world forgets me too.

Even if my hands can’t carve genius from the air,
And numbers slip through my fingers, unaware,
I’d rather stumble in silence, head bent low,
Than wear a crown of deceit, a lie’s hollow glow.

Even if my lips can’t shape the words to say,
What storms I hide, what shadows I obey,
I’d rather choke on the quiet I’ve grown to bear,
Than twist my tongue to falsehoods, too cruel to repair.

Even if my knees are weak, trembling in fight,
And I fall behind when others take flight,
I’d rather break under the weight I carry alone,
Than steal from hands that ache like my own.

I see their stares, their whispers cut deep,
In school hallways, at home, where secrets seep.
I am not their golden child, their brightest star,
But even if I’m lost, I know who I am, by far.

So call me dull, call me mute, call me frail,
But not a cheater, a liar, a thief to unveil.
Even if my worth feels as thin as air,
I’ll hold my truth — it’s all I have to declare.