In Search of Myself

Somewhere along the way,

I lost myself—

while shaping this world

with trembling hands,

I slowly crumbled

grain by grain.

Each morning,

I woke in someone else’s hope,

each night,

I buried my silence

into a pillow

no one ever held.

I built homes

for others to live in,

and let my soul

collapse quietly

at every turn,

without a sound,

without a name.

The weight of centuries

has settled in my bones,

and in my veins

runs no blood—

just borrowed emotions—

love I gave,

duties I carried,

promises I never made

to myself.

They call me

an angel,

but no one saw

my wings

burning in the dark.

Only ashes remain…

and even they

go unnoticed.

I gave my heart,

but never learned

it was mine to keep.

I became shelter

for everyone,

and drowned in silence—

bit by bit,

word by word.

Now,

as the journey nears

its quiet close,

I look back…

and see only shadows.

No name,

no voice

calling me home.

In mirrors,

I no longer see a face—

only a wound

that never found words.

And this question

haunts me gently—

"Who was I?"

"Where am I now?"

"Did I even exist…

for myself?"

I long for a corner

where I can finally meet

the man within,

where the chains of roles

fall away,

where I am called

by my own name—

not by what I gave.

And maybe,

just maybe…

I’ll ask forgiveness

from the ‘me’

who stayed silent,

who endured,

who gave…

but never asked.

Somewhere

along the way,

I lost myself

while shaping this world.

And now I ask—

where do I go

to find…

myself?