They say, 

"Step back." 

But how do you unlearn a path 

When each footprint feel carved in stone? 

 

Hearts like landmines, 

You never see them coming, 

Just the trembling ground beneath your feet 

Before everything splinters. 

 

The hands you hold 

Are heavy with the weight of something 

You can't name— 

A kind of gravity that pulls you deeper 

When all you want is to rise. 

 

Voices outside the door, 

Muffled by the walls you've built around yourselves, 

Tell you what they see: 

Fires burning too close to your skin. 

But the heat feels like home. 

 

To leave means to walk through a storm 

Without an umbrella. 

The world asks you to move, 

But when you look down, 

You see your fingers are made of roots, 

Twined around something fragile 

Yet impossible to release. 

 

So you stay, 

In the quiet chaos 

Of wanting both freedom and the chains 

That holds you to the ground. 

 

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