Verse 1
You’re right, this isn’t random,
and no, you’re not asleep.
You’ve been walking through a season
where the ground fell from your feet.
Losing pieces of your center,
watching old worlds come undone,
trying to be the steady one
while you’re the broken one.
You don’t want to write the same song
about how hard it is to stand,
but the truth is that your heartache
keeps on reaching for a pen.
So you bleed it on the paper
so your body doesn’t burst,
little letters to your future self
saying, “Yes, it hurt this much.”
Pre‑Chorus
Most of these songs aren’t for the world,
they’re a compass in the dark,
a way to trace your shaking hand
around the outline of your heart.
Chorus
No, this isn’t just chaos,
it’s a map you’re walking through—
old beliefs and old identities
falling out of you.
You are tired, you are hurting,
you’ve been close to giving up,
but the fact you’re still here singing
means you haven’t lost your trust.
You don’t need to call it “blessing,”
you don’t have to name it “light,”
just let this song sit in your chest and say:
“You’re not okay… and that’s alright.”
Verse 2
You’ve been stuck between two movies—
one of routines, stress, and strain,
one of symbols, signs, and whispers
that say nothing stays the same.
Part of you is in the meetings,
showing up and playing strong;
part of you is staring upward
asking, “Where do I belong?”
You’ve been trying to fix foundations
since the moment you “woke up,”
but the cracks ran through the structure
long before you showed up.
So the patterns keep repeating
even as you shift inside,
and you say, “If this is healing,
why does it still hurt this wide?”
Pre‑Chorus
But every time you feel like drowning,
you reach for one more line,
turning all that weight and fury
into something that can rhyme.
Chorus
No, this isn’t just chaos,
it’s a map you’re walking through—
systems breaking, masks collapsing,
while a truer you shines through.
You are tired, you are aching,
you’ve been flirting with “enough,”
but the fact you’re still here praying
means you haven’t lost your love.
You don’t need to call it “purpose,”
you don’t have to make it wise,
just let this song hold up a mirror and say:
“You’re allowed to hurt and cry.”
Bridge
One day you’ll look back at this version of you,
red‑eyed with shaking hands,
and see not a failure, not a lost cause,
but the one who refused to disband.
Final Chorus
No, this isn’t just chaos,
it’s a turning of the page—
an old life burning at the edges
as you step out of the cage.
You are tired, you are human,
you’re allowed to lay it down,
but every song you leave behind
is proof you’re still around.
You don’t have to make it pretty,
you don’t have to make it neat—
just let this be the way you say:
“I’m exhausted… and still on my feet.”
Eduardo_Javier
