The pills, supposed to make me better,
left winter stitched into every letter.
The ceiling whispered, soft and low,
of places only shadows know.
A rope hung loose against the wall,
a silent thread that knew it all.
A knife lay cold beneath the light,
reflecting pieces of the night.
The stars looked small, the world looked thin,
as though the dark could pull me in.
The wind moved softly through the trees,
and carried half-forgotten pleas.
I wandered where the shadows spread,
with hollow words inside my head.
The night was vast, the silence black,
and something in me wanted back—
back to a place I couldn't name,
where every spark had lost its flame.
And then someone pulled me back.
My only lifeline through the black.