ALL ROADS LEAD TO ME

The rain hits harder when I walk alone, each drop whispers, this is on you, in a tone that curls around my chest, wraps my bones, and I feel it everywhere, in every stone. Windows crack with every word I said, mirrors split with every thought in my head, the world tilts, and somehow, of course, I’m the weight, I’m the fault, I’m the source. The sky falls slow, like it’s blaming me, clouds fold in on themselves, I can see their shapes, their edges, sharp like knives, cutting through the quiet of my own life. Every laugh I ruined, every tear I caused, every moment I paused when I should have paused— it loops, it spins, it drags me down, like gravity only knows my frown. Even when the world smiles, I can’t breathe, I twist it, turn it, find the weave where I’m the thread that frayed and tore, the hidden spark that made it war. And maybe it’s me, maybe it’s not, but the echo says what the echo’s got: everything breaks, everything bends, and it circles back—me again, me again.