I no longer want to be a child, for those years carry a thick layer of forgotten dust
I no longer want to be a child, for those years carry a thick layer of forgotten dust,
where every corner hides a room where I learned to forget how to breathe,
and memories are like shadows dancing silently on the walls of time.
Returning would mean shattering myself on the same silent and cold corners,
on the same sharp edges that once sculpted me, leaving me empty.
The truth is I barely escaped the labyrinth of those days, barely surviving,
and I wouldn't want to go back, to fight again for a fragile and trembling existence.
It's as if I'm walking on a glass bridge, looking down at the depths of the past,
where each step could crack the illusion of hard-won safety and tranquility.
I've learned to build a mosaic of the present from shards, to look
forward, with eyes open to the daylight that promises new beginnings and hopes.
In this flow of thoughts and sensations, the past remains a whispered story,
an echo of a silent struggle, but the present is a song of freedom and rediscovery,
where I've learned to breathe again, without fear, without losing myself anymore.
Each lived moment is a victory, a new page in a book that's continuously being written,
and I, a traveler through my own story, choose to step forward, to create my future.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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