i am done with rescue,
with the weight of pulling others from wreckage
only to drown beside them.
done with patching holes in a sinking vessel
that was never meant to float.

i have tried to save myself
with the wrong tools,
wrong hands,
wrong reasons.
mistaking the blade for the bandage,
the cage for shelter.

failure is not a wound that heals.
it is a mirror i refuse to shatter,
because what then?
to live blind or to see myself clearer?
both sound like ruin.

so i demand perfection
a lie i can’t let slip,
a truth no one should hear.
because if i crack,
they will see the hollow,
the ghosts of everyone i tried to be
and wasn’t.

i have no room for mistakes
when the space for love is already full
of fear and silence.
and i know
god, i know
this is not the way to fix things.
but it’s all i have.