> I walk the line through narrow streets—
Heavy walls close in on me.
I try so hard to do things right,
To live a day. To sleep a night.

My body’s tired. My mind is fast—
A storm of fear and angry past.
Full of pain and dread and sin,
Wanting just to leave this skin


I'm still inside the walls I built—
they shake with blame, they drip with guilt.
Each brick, a name I learned by heart,
each shadow knows the broken part.

I try to breathe but air won't stay,
it slips like ghosts and runs away.
The floorboards creak with things unsaid,
the night crawls in and fills my bed.

The mirrors lie or stare too long,
they hum the tune of someone’s wrong.
And I can’t scream—it’s much too late,
the silence knows, it guards the gate.

I press my palms against the frame,
but all I feel is glass and flame.
It burns but doesn't leave a mark,
it hides like wolves that haunt the dark.

So if I sleep, don’t pull me back,
don’t light the match, don’t break the black.
Just let me float in this old skin—
still inside, but not giving in.