Breathing smog of tears, the weight of air,
Each sigh dissolves into whispered despair.
The earth is gilded in golden light,
Yet I tread through shadows, out of sight.

The flowers bloom in whispered grace,
Yet roots embrace an empty space.
They drink the rain, they kiss the sky,
But deep below, they ache, they sigh.

The wind hums songs to bending trees,
How soft its voice, how sweet its ease.
Even the stars lean close at night,
While I reach for ghosts in borrowed light.

I dreamed of hands to hold my own,
A voice that called this heart back home.
But fate unraveled thread by thread,
And love was silence left unsaid.

Some hearts are lanterns, some are stone,
Some find warmth, and some die alone.
And though my roots still touch the sky,
The echoes whisper—why, oh why?