It hurts so bad, I cannot breathe—
A storm within, I cannot leave.

My iron heart, once forged so strong,
Now brittle, cracking, something wrong.

What is missing? What have I lost?
Why does the past return, like frost?
The pain—it lingers, cloaked in rain,
Thunder murmurs all my pain.

Afraid to take one step ahead,
The ladder shakes, my soul has bled.
My legs, they tremble—weak, too small,
I know—I know—I’m bound to fall.

The air smells old—like ghosts, like time,
A bitter taste, a steep decline.
Why does the past still call my name?
Why must I burn inside this flame?

But even storms must break, must die,
And even pain runs out of sky.

So though I shake, though I despair,
I’ll climb—I’ll climb—through fractured air.