I embroidered my dreams on my skin, with threads of desires and burning hopes

I embroidered my dreams on my skin, with threads of desires and burning hopes, But now they pull at every movement, tearing me from within. In the burnt pages of my journal, there you live, Somewhere between the gray ashes or in the scent of dried roses. You will live forever in the expanse of ink spread across those pages, You will live forever in the irony of my words spat over those lines. In the buried corpse of my grave, there you live, Somewhere between my ribs or in the scent of blood that the heart offers. Through the infamous gaze of man, I am an intense and unpredictable mystery, Becoming more confused with each encounter, a labyrinth of contradictions. Through the gaze of a woman, I am strong and proud, displaying all the scars I have gifted the world, daring it to take yet another. Through my own unknown gaze, I am someone I cannot define, A puzzle of thoughts and feelings that never fully align. Between the burnt pages and written lines, between my ribs and the flowing blood, I exist, a paradox of life and dream, torn yet whole. In this world of illusions, I live and die, lose and find myself, A soul whose song cannot be reduced to a single note or melody, And in this journey through shadows and light, I wonder and seek, Who am I in this vast universe of mysteries and stars?