They tell me “time will fix it”, like time was ever kind

They think sleepless nights and shaking hands can just be left behind

Try to hand me all the answers like they fit every scar

But they don’t hear the silence or know how deep these cuts are

I’ve swallowed every sermon, every “you’ll be okay”

But some wounds don’t disappear, just because you pray

I’m not broken for surviving

I’m not weak because I feel

Others don’t get to draw the map

Of everything that’s real

So don’t tell me how to heal

Don’t tell me how to breathe

You weren’t there inside the fire

When it buried part of me

Don’t tell me “let it go”

Like pain’s some cheap appeal

I’ll crawl my own way out of this

But don’t tell me how to heal

I’m learning how to carry, what never fully leaves

Turning pain into reminders, not excuses on my sleeve

And maybe healing isn’t pretty, some days it’s rage and tears

Maybe it’s simply waking up alive after drowning for years

I don’t need your perfect ending

Or your polished way to feel

This heart still beats beneath all this

And that alone is real

So don’t tell me how to heal

Don’t tell me who to be

You don’t know the weight I drag

Or what it took to carry me

Don’t call the darkness weakness

Don’t say it isn’t real

I’ll find my own way through the night

But don’t tell me how to heal

Maybe healing looks like screaming

Maybe healing’s standing still

Maybe it’s finally saying

“I survived, and always will”

Maybe healing isn’t soft hands

Maybe healing fights to live

Maybe I’m still learning

How to take what life can give

So don’t tell me how to heal, just sit with me awhile

Don’t turn my pain into a lesson, or force another smile

I’m not asking for your rescue, i'm just asking you to feel

That I’m still here, still breathing, and that’s my way to heal

Don’t tell me how to heal…

Just don’t leave while I do.