I stood at the gates when the world was small,
Holding the weight of a stone-grey wall.
I gave you my light when your sky was dark,
And watched as you used it to find your spark.
But when the locks turned and the air grew free,
They walked toward the sun and forgot about me.
Now I sit in the silence of the nights they left,
In a house made of shadows and a heart of theft.
I don’t ask for lightning, or for walls to cave in,
I don’t pray for a debt to be paid for their sin.
I just whisper to Heaven, through a throat that is dry:
"Please tell them I’m hurting. Please tell them I cry."
I ask for the Father to sit by their bed,
And echo the words that I should have said.
Not to break them or bend them, or bring them to shame,
But to make sure they simply remember my name.
Let the truth be a mirror that they have to see—
That it wasn't just 'time' they took from me.
And once the Great Messenger tells them the part,
I can finally start taking back my own heart.
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 5:40 PM UTC
I stood at the gates when the world was small,
Holding the weight of a stone-grey wall.
I gave you my light when your sky was dark,
And watched as you used it to find your spark.
But when the locks turned and the air grew free,
They walked toward the sun and forgot about me.
Now I sit in the silence of the nights they left,
In a house made of shadows and a heart of theft.
I don’t ask for lightning, or for walls to cave in,
I don’t pray for a debt to be paid for their sin.
I just whisper to Heaven, through a throat that is dry:
"Please tell them I’m hurting. Please tell them I cry."
I ask for the Father to sit by their bed,
And echo the words that I should have said.
Not to break them or bend them, or bring them to shame,
But to make sure they simply remember my name.
Let the truth be a mirror that they have to see—
That it wasn't just 'time' they took from me.
And once the Great Messenger tells them the part,
I can finally start taking back my own heart.
