The Mess I Made

Well, the path I’m takin’

is narrow and worn,

lined with the ghosts

of choices I swore

wouldn’t follow me home.

And the mess it’s makin’—

I see it now.

In the people I loved

from too far away,

in the promises bent

until they finally snapped.

My heart’s been breakin’ for years,

quietly at first,

like a house settling into itself,

then all at once—

walls giving way,

everything exposed to the weather.

I kept walkin’ anyway,

tellin’ myself damage meant movement,

that pain was proof

I was still alive.

I learned how to survive storms

by pretending I was one.

But every mile adds weight,

and every night asks

what I’m really runnin’ from.

I’m tired of mistaking destruction

for direction,

tired of calling this loneliness

freedom.

So if there’s mercy left

on this road I chose,

I hope it meets me

before the break becomes permanent.

Because my heart—

though cracked and tired—

is still beating,

still hoping

there’s another way forward

that doesn’t cost me myself.