Where Am I? - 1

Somewhere,

I lost myself—

while shaping this world,

I slowly scattered

like dust in the wind.

Every morning

was borrowed light

for someone else’s sky.

Every night,

I tucked my loneliness

beneath the silence

of my own breath.

I folded dreams

into beds

I never slept in,

gifted smiles

with trembling hands—

and in return?

Only silence.

And a question

that echoes still:

“Where are you?”

Once,

in a mother’s prayer,

in a child’s laughter,

in a sister’s wedding veil—

I lived.

But when I turned to the mirror,

only a stranger stared back.

What should I say

if someone asked,

“Who are you?”

I am the one

who carried everyone,

but never

carried himself.

And now,

as life slows

into a quiet dusk,

a soft fear whispers—

If I vanish now,

would anyone know

I was ever really here?

The mirror shows

no face,

just tired shadows.

My breath still moves,

but it feels borrowed…

as though I’m still

paying off

debts of affection,

of duty,

of promises

I never made

to myself.

I want to rest.

But how do you rest

when even your name

has become a task?

I seek a quiet corner—

not for peace,

but for permission

to simply…

exist.

No titles.

No roles.

No masks.

Just me.

My voice.

My silence.

And perhaps,

one day,

I’ll be brave enough

to forgive myself—

for staying quiet,

for always enduring,

for giving everything…

but never giving

myself

to me.

Somewhere,

I lost who I was

while shaping this world.

And now,

I ask again—

where do I go

to find…

where I am?