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| A Lost Soul |
I walk where echoes borrow my name,
A shadow stitched to a borrowed flame.
The road forgets my every trace,
And mirrors refuse to hold my face.
I speak in prayers the wind can’t hear,
My voice dissolves in distant fear.
Each step I take unlearns its sound,
As if I was never meant to be found.
Time looks through me, thin and kind,
Leaving only dust behind.
Yet in this ache, so dark, so whole,
There breathes a spark within the soul.
For even lost, the heart still knows—
Night is where the morning grows.
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