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In the cradle of my skull,
I chase the hum of something null.
Faint ripples stir, a muted plea,
A shard of self, unraveling me.

Yet here I linger, linger,
With every sting, I grow stronger.

I am the hush, I am the tear,
In the chasm, I draw near.
Through the black, I weave my sound,
A fragile spark, on broken ground.

The past coils tight, it grips my core,
But in the split, I seek no more.
With every thud, I shed the weight,
A silent pulse, to navigate.

And when the dark folds into me,
I’ll etch my breath, I’ll still be free.

I am the hush, I am the tear,
In the chasm, I draw near.
Through the black, I weave my sound,
A fragile spark, on broken ground.