" Everytime, it's me"
I don’t know—
is it always me,
the shadow behind every smile,
the reason joy learns to flee?
Yes... it’s me
who's never enough,
no matter the fight,
no matter how tough.
I try—God, I try,
with trembling hands,
but still fall short
of love’s demands.
It aches—
to see tears spill
from eyes I longed
only to fill
with light.
And yet, I become
the reason they break,
a storm in their peace,
a wound they can't fake.
I feel the worst—
like I’m fading from inside,
a hollow scream
with no place to hide.
Some nights,
the silence gets too loud,
and I sit with my knife,
my only shroud.
Just me and the blade,
at the edge of pain,
where memories bleed
like cold, sharp rain.
Everytime—
I’m the one who stays
when all else fades,
everytime...
Everytime.
Writer's note
Sometimes, the thing that pushes me to write isn't hope-it's the thought of dying.
There are moments when the world feels too loud, too selfish, full of people who get hurt, but still they want to live, unlike me. And in the middle of that, I feel like I don't belong-like I'm the only one ready to stop when everyone else keeps going.
That's why I write.