I was etched like a trace in a dream’s tale untold,
No echo stirred within silence’s hold.

My solitude whispered secrets I’d never known,
Not the mirror — madness had truths of its own.

I carved every moment upon my skin,
Yet time kept bleeding from deep within.

I’m a spectacle, yes, but each hue feels dry —
What bloom can deserts in blossom imply?

When I write a name, my tongue turns frost,
Words try to soothe, but something’s lost.

Even wounds stay mute, though the cry is wet,
What did we gain when our fall was set?

If the quill should tear, it becomes the script,
Each gesture hides a sentence, crypt.

Morning arrives like a shadow slipping past —
Seems I’m the one who’s hidden at last.

i wake and feel it haunt my chest
a shadow i can’t quite forget.
it whispers soft, but sharp and deep,
a fear that never falls asleep.

i know one day it will arrive,
by my own hand, or life’s design.
not if, but when. that’s always clear.
it’s crept beside me many years.

i’ve never known a life that shone,
just gray and hollow, all along.
even as a child, i knew
this path would never bloom or bloom true.

so when the year draws to its close,
i’ll let go all i’ve ever known.
i’ll say goodbye to morning air,
to birds that sing like life is fair.

goodbye to mom, whose love was warm,
who cradled me through every storm.
goodbye to dad, whose fleeting stay
taught me how fast love walks away.

i’ll whisper soft my last goodbye
no rage, no cries, no need to lie.
and in that hush, i’ll drift, unseen.
a breath, a blur. a fading dream.