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Me and myself, a solitude flowing through the veins of silence,
An unseen thread between the world and nothingness, a knot that never unties,
Everyone looks at me with their own eyes, weaving my story from their shadows,
But I remain beyond, beyond their words intertwined in chains of expectations,
No longer seeking to fit the edges of the world, I have learned to break, to leave,
To stretch along the horizon like a shadow that slowly, slowly fades away,
And my silence becomes poetry, and my departure, a liberation.
Sometimes, silence cloaks me in its heavy mantle,
I feel like a wave lost in an ocean of misunderstandings,
Swimming among illusions, among people who look at me but do not see me,
People who talk to me without feeling my heavy breath,
And I wonder when I will find those souls who will know how to listen,
To feel the tremor from my depths without judging its silent echo,
Those people who will caress my wounds without asking where they come from.
But until then, it's just me with myself, an empty house where only my steps resound,
A single door without a lock, always open, but never visited,
And I wonder how much I must care for myself,
Because no one will come to save me from the abysses I have built alone,
No one will place a hand on my hidden face and say, &quot;You are whole.&quot;
Deep down, I know that only I know all the layers of my pain,
Only I can understand the silence that settles between my heartbeats.
And yet, I always return to myself, even when I leave,
I carry my memories like an old chest, full of voids and echoes,
And I wonder, in the deep night, if I have ever been anything other than a shadow,
A story that no one has read to the end,
A dream that always gets lost between the world's sleepy eyelids.
Me and myself, a destiny bound by a single breath,
An encrypted thought, a secret that only silence understands,
And, in the end, I know that only I will remain to listen to myself,
To watch my soul scatter in dreams,
And only I will know the true story that no one has told.
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