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.