I Did Not Arrive
The message was clear.
But I did not arrive.
Something took me—
quietly.
Held me hostage
in a battlefield
without coordinates.
Echoes detonated
from inside,
each doubt a buried mine
I stepped on
without moving.
Fear didn’t shout—
it infested,
dripping into the marrow,
slow and precise.
There were no weapons,
only aftermath.
No fight,
only surrender
masquerading as endurance.
The scars remain—
but even they
refuse to speak.
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