No Longer Asking Why

How many times did I think I was down? How many nights did I drown in the sound? How many times did I question my name? Like I was a ghost living inside my pain. How many doors did I close to feel safe? How many dreams did I throw to the gray? I spoke to the silence inside of my head, And it gave me a hollow assurance instead. I was learning the art of how to disappear, Yet somehow, I’m still standing right here. Not sure if I survived the worst of the cost, Or if I’m just living inside what I lost. Maybe… The fire was never there to burn. Maybe… The fire was there to help me turn. I’m not the light, I’m not the dark, I’m every echo left in the scars. Somewhere between what falls apart, And the stubborn beat inside the heart. I’m not a hero, I’m not a name, Just something shaped by the heat of the flame. And if I lost who I was before, Maybe it means I became something more. There were days when I didn’t speak at all, Just watched my life hit every wall. Searching the faces of strangers for signs, To prove that I hadn’t run out of time. Every mistake was a heavy black thread, That pulled me back down to the floor of my head. But even down there, in the dust and the noise, I could still hear the ghost of a broken voice. Saying, “Move, keep walking, don’t stay too long,” Even when everything felt so wrong. So I learned to pace through these empty rooms, Tracing the walls like they were part of my wounds. Yeah— I stopped praying for rescue, it never arrived, Just a man and his mind learning how to survive. No map for the road, no clean getaway, Just sculpting a soul from the debris and clay. I don’t call it strength, I call it delay, Like I paused the fall but the cliff gave away. Every loss carved a truth that I couldn’t refuse, Every silence demanded a piece of my youth. They talk about heroes, but I missed the train, I’m just what is left when you outlive the pain. Not broken, not fixed, not easily claimed— Still standing right here, but beautifully changed. Still breathing… Still lost… Still carrying… What it cost… I’m not the light, I’m not the dark, I’m every echo left in the scars. Somewhere between what falls apart, And the stubborn beat inside the heart. I’m not a hero, I’m not a name, Just something shaped by the heat of the flame. And if I lost who I was before, Maybe it means I became something more. But I’m still here… Under this sky… No longer asking why…