I Left Pieces of Me in Every Word

Words were never just words.

They were pieces of me

scattered between every line.

I wrote to escape,

but somehow… I got closer.

Every sentence was a confession,

every pause

a hesitation between staying and leaving.

I thought I was writing a story,

but the story…

was writing me.

It pulled out everything I hid,

placed it in front of me

raw,

unfiltered,

honest.

And with every line I finished,

I lost a part of myself…

and found another.

Strange,

yet real.

Because when we write with truth,

we don’t create words

We rebuild who we are.

And leave behind

a version of us

that understands more

than we ever could