Self-sabotage…
Do I hate me?
Where is the love
I used to cradle myself in—
The fire, the passion
that once danced in my eyes?
Where did it go?
Where is it hiding?
I feel lost.
Unseen.
Un-everything.
My soul carries weight
that words can’t hold.
I try to listen,
to quiet the storm in my head,
but the noise is loud,
and the silence is louder.
I stand in reality—
but my mind drifts,
buried under broken hopes,
half-lived dreams,
and silent cries
no one hears.
Who am I?
I can pretend.
I can guess, wish,
even lie to myself.
But truth?
I don’t know her.
Do they see it?
That I’m searching—
grasping for pieces of me
in a world so hollow,
so Godless,
so gray?
Damn…
When will I feel
what my brain keeps thinking?
I’m 33
and I can’t tell you
my favorite color,
my favorite show,
my favorite version of me.
I don’t know me anymore.
I only remember the echo.
I only remember
who I was
before.



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