I’ve searched for love in borrowed skin,
Each time I lost, I thought I'd win.
I handed trust to hearts not true,
Till all I had was shades of blue.
I’ve begged for warmth in empty beds,
With storm clouds camped inside my head.
Arms I needed never stayed,
Just fleeting ghosts that slipped and swayed.
They smiled when I fell out of place,
Like failure made them feel some grace.
My family’s eyes, they watched me break—
Not to help, but for drama’s sake.
And life? It locked me in a cage,
Fed my doubt, then mocked my rage.
These burdens sit so loud, so near,
Whispering lies I still might hear.
But through the ache, I feel a spark,
A flame that flickers in the dark.
A voice that says, “You’re still alive,
And even cracked, you still survive.”
The sun don’t ask if I’m okay,
It climbs the sky the same each day.
No matter how my shadows play,
The sun will find me anyway.
So let me cry, let me fall through—
Let me mourn what I thought was true.
Let me curse the nights I bled alone,
And build a fire from sticks and bone.
Because I am not the ones who left,
Not hollow love, not silent theft.
I’m rising up in my own way—
And the sun? It shows up anyway.
