Twenty winters

I was three when the gates closed tight, Left in halls of flickering light. Names they called, but none were mine, I learned to smile and say, “I'm fine.” The days bled slow, the nights felt deep, Even shadows wouldn't dare to sleep. They watched me grow, cold and unknown, A stranger carved from skin and bone. Each laugh I heard, a distant shore, I learned that knocking means closed doors. Hated for reasons I don’t get to choose, Blamed myself for every bruise. Now twenty winters weigh my spine, And still no hand has tangled mine. I want a friend — just one, not more — But I can’t trust like I did before. Family says, “Make us proud,” But I’m just lost inside this crowd. So let me leave, and live alone, Plant my peace where pain has grown. No medals, no praise, no shining stage, Just silence, self, and turning the page. I’ve failed, I’ve fallen, I’ve run, I’ve bled — But I still walk, though my soul feels dead.