I talk to God, but nothing speaks.
Just walls, and nights, and quiet weeks.
I claw through days in borrowed skin,
Each smile a lie I bury in.

I’m tired of breathing just to break,
Of holding on for holding’s sake.
And if I shatter, let it be
I’ve reached the place that feels like me.

At last, my soul might find release,
So leave me now…
I have my peace.