I've felt this fracture deep before,
A storm that shakes my inner core.
Uncertainty, a ghostly guest,
Carving doubt where hope should rest.
I wear my masks, my scripted guise,
But truth is written in my eyes.
A labyrinth of fears unspoken,
Walls unscaled and trust left broken.
Each whisper etches in my mind,
A chorus cruel, a loop unkind.
Like echoes in a hollow cave,
Where self-belief becomes a grave.
I chase the past in fragile dreams,
Where confidence once flowed in streams.
Now, faith erodes like crumbling stone,
And I am left to stand alone.
How many nights must shadows win,
Before my courage breaks back in?
How many wars inside my chest,
Before my doubts are put to rest?
Yet even now, I weave this fight,
A paradox of dark and light.
I long for strength that won’t decay,
For armor that won’t flinch or sway.
But this terrain remains unsure,
The soul’s raw wound, so insecure.
A silent dance with ghosts and fears,
A restless sea of uncried tears.
Perhaps one day, I’ll find my grace,
When scars become a sacred space.
Until then, I endure this storm,
Seeking faith in fragile form.
