once again

Again. Please. Let it end here. Not the life — but the cycle. The loop of almost healing, almost hoping, almost breathing free. I’ve walked through too many midnights that feel like mirrors, where nothing reflects but my breaking. Oh, my self, we are soaked in the same old rain. And still, we scream loud enough to split the sky — but the silence answers back: Again. Even the moon has turned her face. Even the walls have grown tired of my voice. And yet here I stand — hands empty, lungs bruised, soul flickering like a dying match — asking nothing but this: That maybe, tomorrow doesn’t have to taste like again. --