8d • Poems
Broken
I don’t remember the last time I felt whole
just fragments of a person
scattered across sleepless nights
and apologies I never said out loud.
My mind is a warzone
no one else can hear
gunfire thoughts,
memories exploding without warning,
echoes of everything I wish I could erase
but somehow never forget.
I tried to explain it once…
how drowning feels when you’re breathing,
how silence can scream louder than pain,
but they looked at me like I was speaking in ghosts
and one by one,
they turned their backs
like I was something too heavy to carry.
Maybe I was.
Now I sit here with the weight of my past
pressed against my chest,
every mistake replaying
like it’s the only story I deserve to remember.
I wear guilt like a second skin
tight, suffocating,
impossible to peel away.
And forgiveness?
That word feels foreign in my mouth,
like I’m not allowed to taste it.
Like redemption was meant for someone
who didn’t break things the way I did.
I look in the mirror
and see every version of me I hate
every wrong turn,
every burned bridge,
every moment I should’ve been better
but wasn’t.
And still…
somewhere beneath all this ruin,
there’s a whisper.
Soft.
Stubborn.
Still alive.
It reminds me
that I’m not the only one
fighting battles behind closed eyes,
that there are others
sitting in the same darkness
trying to convince themselves
to stay one more night.
So I stay.
Even when it hurts.
Even when I don’t believe I deserve to.
Even when the people I love
feel like strangers now.
Because maybe broken
doesn’t mean finished.
Maybe shattered pieces
can still catch light.
And maybe
just maybe
I’m not as alone
as my mind wants me to believe.
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Broken
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