Lost in the chaos, a flicker of light,
A whisper of calm in the howl of the night.
Storms in my chest, yet no one can see—
The war on the inside is quiet, but free.
Streetlights are flickering, echoing thought,
Memories twisted in battles I fought.
Dreams made of glass now litter the floor,
Each step I take cuts deeper than before.
Voices like thunder, shadows that cling,
Hope feels like some faraway thing.
But even in silence, something holds fast—
A thread through the madness, stitched from the past.
So I gather the pieces, broken but bright,
Draw maps in the dark with the scraps of my light.
And though I am wandering, battered, unknown—
Even in chaos, I’m finding my own.
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