I keep blaming myself for everything,
Every wrong turn, every broken string.
Especially for those I hold so near,
The ones I love, the ones I fear.
Why can’t I be what they deserve?
A steady hand, a calming nerve?
Instead, I turn each day to worse,
As if I’m living under some curse.
Am I that broken, that far from grace?
A shadow lost in every space?
Can’t I bring joy, a little light,
Or warmth to chase away the night?
Even for myself, I strive to mend,
To gather pieces, to ascend.
Yet each time I fall apart once more,
A soul adrift, washed to the shore.
Now I stand at my lowest point,
With fragile heart and aching joints.
I can’t face it all on my own,
But here I am—completely alone.
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