I’m sorry to those who carry my shadow,
For no soul should ever bear such weight.
I am a girl, barely begun to understand the world,
Yet I've tasted its bitter lessons too early—
Each one leaves a scar that whispers,
"Don't trust, don't hope, don't dream."

If there’s a touch that could reach me, soft and kind,
Without the weight of ghosts in its hands,
That would be the first.
For all I've known is the sting of familiar betrayal,
The same cold words spoken,
The same poisoned tears spilled,
Each cut a reminder—
That love sometimes wears the face of a knife.

Perhaps this is too much to expose,
To bare to a world that turns its gaze,
But if you've walked through the dark,
Touched the same fire,
Know that you are not alone.
We are the ones who have been torn apart
And put back together,
Imperfectly, but still breathing.

I still look over my shoulder,
Fearing that familiar shadow,
The one that locks me in silent rooms,
Where my cries are swallowed by the walls,
Where air grows thick and I am suffocated
By all the things I can’t say.

But we are not alone.
We carry the strength of every wound,
And in our scars,
We are both fragile and unbreakable,
Crumbling yet rising.
And together, we find the courage to heal.