Lyrics

Some wounds are silent…
mine still whisper.

There are tears beneath my skin,
stories that never learned to begin.
I write to breathe, I write to heal,
to give my sorrow something real.

Each word a spark, each line a scar,
I chase the pieces of who we are.
Reason was armor, control a crown
but both have fallen down.

And underneath what I’ve concealed,
the pain begins to turn to field.

My fragments—glowing glass inside my heart,
broken, but born to burn in the dark.
I am not whole, but never gone,
I am the silence, the storm, the dawn.

I carried too much in too small a space,
faith like a bruise I tried to erase.
But even wounds can hold a prayer,
a sacred breath that still lives there.

Some pieces cut, some softly gleam,
together they form the shape of dream.
Not perfection, not control—
but the quiet rise of soul.

Do not fear my shadowed skin,
the light was always burning in.

My fragments, embers beneath my bones,
shattered, but singing in undertones.
I am not whole, but never gone,
I am the ache that makes me strong.

Each fracture is a universe,
each scar a verse I had to learn.
The beauty is not what survived—
it’s the fire that stayed alive.

My fragments, glow like stars reborn,
a constellation carved from storm.
I am not whole, but I am more—
the broken sky my heart adores.
I am the wound, the whisper, the flame,
and I rise each time I speak my name.

With pen in hand… I return to light.
With every word… I become whole enough to shine.