When the night is soft and shadows sigh,
I gather pieces of who I've been,
Underneath a silver-breathing sky—
The broken heart, the fractured skin.
I’ve worn the weight of wordless ache,
A cloak of silence stitched by stars,
Still I rise, though pathways break,
Barefoot tracing memory’s scars.
The moon bends low with lantern light,
A silent guide for those who roam,
It whispers...
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