I walk through ruins made up of me,
Fragments of who I used to be.
Every step, a memory’s sting,
Every breath, a shattered thing.

Hope flickers low but will not die,
It hides behind a tearless cry.
I speak to ghosts no one can hear,
And hold my fears like souvenirs.

I am the fire, I am the flood,
A quiet storm beneath the blood.
I smile with lips I’ve taught to lie,
And laugh while breaking down inside.

No map to where I’m meant to go,
No anchor left in all I know.
But still I rise on fractured feet
A heart half-torn, yet incomplete.

If love returns, it must be real,
It must not ask my soul to kneel.
Until then, I will bear the ache
A soul rebuilding from the quake.