Low tide/ High walls

VERSE 1

The storm passed quietly, left me standing in the hush.

Sand in my palms, heartbeat loud enough to crush.

I’m here, but different — something in me cracked.

Survival isn’t glory; it’s the pieces you get back.

VERSE 2

Low tide reveals everything you tried to hide.

Old wounds, old ghosts, bones the waves denied.

I sift through the wreckage with a colder kind of grace.

I’m not drowning anymore, but I’m not the same face.

CHORUS

I built high walls from the wreckage and the pain.

Stone by stone, I learned how to breathe again.

If the tide comes back, let it crash in vain.

I’m not who I was — I’m stronger in my name.

Low tide, high walls — I rise again.

VERSE 3

I built high walls from the driftwood of my past.

Stacked them tall enough to keep the world back.

Not out of fear — no, that part died in the storm.

This is protection, not retreat, a new shape I’ve formed.

VERSE 4

The horizon calls, but I don’t answer fast.

I’ve learned the cost of running toward what never lasts.

Still, the water glimmers like a promise half‑true.

I’ll step close again someday, but not for you.

VERSE 5

For now I breathe steady, feet firm in the sand.

A survivor with boundaries carved by my own hand.

The tide will rise again, but I’ll be ready when it does.

I rebuilt myself stronger — and that’s enough.