I used to think silence was empty.
But it sounded… like me.

I lit up halls they never named me in,
Held their weight like air was skin.
They used to whisper, 'We’d fall without you,'
Then vanished — quiet, without a win.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t fade —
I sank like smoke into their praise.
Kindness kills when you sip it alone.
Sweet on the lips. Black in the bones.

When it got bad — there was silence.
No 'hold on', no 'I’m here' — just silence.
And in that void, in that godless depth,
I heard it clear: you live when there’s no one left.

Didn’t beg. Didn’t plead.
Just wanted someone to breathe and be.
But even echoes shut their mouths,
Afraid to bounce off this me.

No breaking glass. No holy war.
No curse for them, no open sore.
Just a quiet truth: to be yourself
Is danger — when you’ve always been a cure.

I pulled out that coat — the one they mocked.
Put it on.
No armor.
No cause.
Stepped into a night with no destination,
And for once — I didn’t hide.
Just a street. And me.
And wind that didn’t ask 'How are you?'
It just blew.
And that —
was enough.

When it got quiet — I didn’t flinch.
I stared it down, and saw myself in it.
I’m not the echo — I’m the end of it.
And I’m still here — after the silence bit.

I was never yours.
Not even mine.
Just - voice.