Boxes are ticked, steps aligned, and yet each victory feels like a quiet funeral.
I’ve become what I once prayed for,
but can’t shake the feeling
that I left something living behind,
sth that used to laugh without reason
and believe without proof.
Boxes are ticked, steps aligned, and yet each victory feels like a quiet funeral.
I’ve become what I once prayed for,
but can’t shake the feeling
that I left something living behind,
sth that used to laugh without reason
and believe without proof.