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Poem

I just hope time doesn't hate me too,
I never meant to waste it, I swear I didn't,
I was just tired, tired of carrying silence like a curse,
Of pretending that solitude is a form of hidden strength.
I was tired in a way that sleep couldn't fix,
Tired of waking up to the same empty silence,
Tired of fighting the demons in my mind,
Tired of hearing that I'm nothing until I started to believe it myself.
Some days I didn't even feel real,
Just a name, a body, a shadow moving through minutes I didn't ask for,
And even then, I tried,
I tried to smile, to stay, to convince myself that I'm not a waste of space.
So if time is counting its moments, if it's keeping score,
Tell it that I was human, that I bled quietly,
That I didn't mean to fall behind, I was just... exhausted from surviving.
And in the depth of each day, like a lost note in the symphony of life,
I searched for a ray of light in the darkness that seemed endless,
But the fatigue was like a heavy canvas enveloping me,
Preventing me from seeing clearly, from feeling the warmth of the sun.
Tell time that I tried to be more than an echo,
That I fought to find my voice in a world that seemed deaf to my calls,
And maybe one day, when the silence shatters like an old mirror,
I will find the strength to pick up each shard and turn it into stars.
Because, deep down in my soul, I know that time is not the enemy,
It is just a river flowing, carrying me to an unknown horizon,
Where the journey is no longer a burden, but a rebirth,
And then, perhaps, I will understand that the fatigue was just a step on the path to light.

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