“The Road Back to Myself.”
I once wore the mask of numbness,
A veil of smoke and steel,
Drowning out the pain, the weight, the ache,
I pretended not to feel.
Each day, a borrowed moment,
Each night, a fleeting flight,
I lived on borrowed time and dreams,
Chasing shadows in the night.
But shadows don’t hold warmth,
And borrowed time runs thin,
The echoes of what’s lost inside
Begin to call again.
I heard them softly at first,
Like whispers in the breeze,
A faint, familiar voice inside
That begged me to just breathe.
The numbness cracked like ice,
The edges sharp and cold,
And for the first time in years,
I faced the truth untold.
That I had wandered far too long,
Too far from who I was,
A stranger in my own skin,
Chasing what I thought I lost.
The road ahead felt heavy,
The past a chain of rust,
But in the quiet of the dawn,
I found the strength to trust.
To trust that I could stand again,
That I could heal, not run,
That somewhere deep inside of me,
A part of me had won.
The steps were small and shaky,
The ground unsteady still,
But every step was a rebellion,
A defiance of the pill.
The world didn’t open wide
And say “Come, you’re free,”
But each breath I took was mine again,
A promise, just for me.
I learned to feel the cracks,
The spaces once filled with lies,
And in their quiet presence,
I started to realize—
That I was never broken,
Just buried under years,
And healing wasn’t about fixing,
But learning to face the fears.
I am not perfect, not yet whole,
But each day, I rise again,
Not to run from my own darkness,
But to hold it, and transcend.
I no longer chase the fleeting high,
Or seek the weightless void,
For in the messy, tangled truth,
I’ve found the peace I’d destroyed.
I am here, step by step,
The road ahead still long,
But I no longer walk in silence—
I walk to my own song.
The road to recovery isn’t clear,
And some days, it’s a fight,
But each moment I claim back from the past
Is a step into the light.
