I sleep too long and still wake tired
Eat once a day and call it fine
My body moves like it’s on fire
But no one sees the smoke that’s inside

I smile in crowds and then I crash
Some days I speak, some days I pass
They say, “You’re silent” must be the pain
I’m a masterpiece that couldn’t last a day

This body isn’t mine
It’s a cage I decorate with time
Told myself that I’d be fine
But I lie, I lie, I lie
I want to live, not just survive
But the weight of me is hard to drive
This body isn’t mine
It’s just a place where my half self reside

I walk in dreams, I write in code
My trauma’s loud, I may implode
I help the others and hide my own
I give them light and stay alone

I miss the me I never met
Before the meds, before regret
Before the world carved labels in
And made me wear them on my skin

This body isn’t mine
It’s stitched with fear and dull design
I dress it up in clothes and pride
But I cry, I cry, I cry
I want to scream without the shame
But healing here just feels like blame
This body isn’t mine
It’s just a shell I’ve learned to hide

I want a name that’s not survival
A mirror that don’t feel like trial
I want to live like I’m allowed
To be loud, to be proud, to be now

This body will be mine
I’ll rewrite the rules, redraw the line
I’ll make my pain a goddamn shrine
And rise, and rise, and rise
I want to feel what freedom tastes
To love myself without escape
This body will be mine
This time… this time… this time

Maybe not yet
I’ll try to survive
Reclaim my body
Mark it as mine