I gave you my smile and you treated it cheap,
Took all of my daylight, then billed me for sleep.
I patched up your chaos, you called it "my role,"
Like I was some service, not flesh with a soul.

You fed me your damage, I swallowed it whole,
Then you had the nerve to say I "lost control."
You watched me unravel and called it "a phase,"
While I burned for your comfort in ten thousand ways.

You made me believe I am hard to accept,
That asking for balance was getting in debt.
So I carved out my needs just to fit your frame,
And you still found a reason to pin me with blame.

You did this. You all did. Don't play fucking dumb,
Every cut, every fracture - look what I've become!
You stripped me for parts just to keep yourselves whole,
Now... There's nothing left here you can reach or extol.

I killed off the softness you loved to exploit,
Turned care into numbers you cannot destroy,
No warmth or forgiveness. No delicate plea.
Just clean, cold precision where a girl used to be.

Hello, have you missed me, or just came to scout,
How I just slipped into the thing you forced out?

i chose you
with all your fragments--
both those emitting light
and the ones dark as night.

no new information, just my thoughts dressed in rhyme.
since i feel the need to absolve myself of this "crime."
it's not a fucking burger from mcdonald's my dear,
that i picked up for cheap and brought over here.

this thing you call "unhealthy," this way that i care,
didn't grow overnight, it was damaged and repaired.
you say living for someone means losing your spine,
like a program that crashes when cut from the line.

but that's not the code running somewhere in me,
it's not how the system was meant to be.
my life had its colors long before you arrived,
i was breathing, building, stubbornly alive.

i made systems and machines, plastic pieces of time,
kept my hands busy turning grief into design.
but loneliness sits like a wire in the wall,
quiet electricity under it all.

and when someone appears who can see through the noise,
who hears every glitch and error in my voice,
something shifts in the structure, the purpose expands,
suddenly living has somewhere to land.

so when i say i'd move mountains, or give what i can,
it is not surrendering who i am.
it's not erasing myself to make room for you,
it's two lights in a circuit burning brighter as two.

you hear "dependence," a warning, a scar from before,
echoes of someone who closed every door.
and i get why that shadow still sits in your sight,
why devotion can look like a warning light.

but love isn't sterile, detached, or contained,
not some careful equation with variables chained.
it's risk and it's trust and it's saying out loud
that someone can matter enough to be proud.

if someday you're gone, yes, the wound would be deep,
some hollows are promises memory keeps.
scars form slowly, the body adjusts,
time lays its quiet sediment over the dust.

but i'd still rather live with a heart that was true
than one that stayed safe by refusing to choose.
so no, this devotion you keep calling "a flaw"
isn't sickness or weakness, or breaking some law.

and here's the part i struggle to phrase without sound
like i'm begging for something i haven't yet found.
because every time you call this love something "wrong,"
a quiet old doubt starts singing along.

not a new voice, no, just an old one i know,
the same tired whisper i've buried below.
the one that says maybe i'm simply "too much,"
too loud with my care, too intense with my touch.

when it's simply the way that my compass steers,
and life tastes a little sweeter when you're here.

she ran life in ring 3 while the world held the keys,
single-stepping their crashes through stacked SEH trees.
"patch the wounds," "run the code," "keep the system online,"
burning cycles of her time just so others could shine.
hex dumps of her spirit spilled silent and thin,
till she traced one lost pointer - resolved into her within.

so she patched opcodes of mercy she had misapplied.
ASLR on the past, let the vectors all slide,
found her voice in the noise: "wait. that's not mine."
no applause in the network, just a soft inner ping,
as she whispered back gently: "it's my own fucking link."
signed in her own key where the cursor idly blinked.

you call my stillness boredom
like silence is a crime.
like calm must mean i'm empty,
like peace is wasted time.
but storms have worn these bones before
in ways i rarely show,
and after walking through that dark
you learn to move... slow.

i used to chase horizons
until my lungs burned thin,
collecting little fractures
where wonder should have been.
new cities, new disasters,
new lessons carved in stone,
and every road kept whispering:
"you're meant to walk alone."

so i learned the art of quiet
like tending candlelight,
small joys without a witness,
soft mornings without fight.
a cup, a song, a window,
a sky that didn't scream,
a life that asked for nothing
except the space to breathe.

you see a girl who lingers,
who doesn't leap or run.
you see a closed horizon
where there should be a sun.
but you don't see the mileage
behind these careful eyes,
the map that's burned to ashes
from too many goodbyes.

and you... you blaze like comets,
forever chasing flame,
new roads beneath your boots
before the last had name.
you hunger for the thunder,
for stories loud and wild,
while i just guard the quiet -
i think it's fine, alright?

maybe we are strangers
sharing borrowed air,
two languages of living
that never learned to pair.
you think my calm is prison,
i think your storms are knives,
and somewhere in that difference
we bruise each other's lives.

but listen now, my restless love,
before we drift apart:
i'm not afraid of motion,
i'm just done being the start.
i've dragged the wheel through miles alone,
through wreckage, dust, and fear.
if roads still call your name...
then take the driver's seat, my dear.

i'll sit beside the window,
watching worlds unfold.
not chasing, not resisting,
just letting life be told.
lead us where you're dreaming,
i'll follow where you steer.
i'm tired of searching solo...
but i'll ride with you from here.