Mirror hums like a tired machine,
Shows me someone I’ve never been.
Every reflection feels out of tune,
Like borrowed clothes in a borrowed room.
I trace my face with a stranger’s hand,
Try to understand what I don’t understand.
The name they call me hits too hard,
Like a ghost written on a driver’s card.
I know my truth, but it hides inside,
Like a quiet river with no place to rise.
I’m standing still in a moving life,
Trying to breathe through the wrong inside.
Steel strings cry what I can’t explain,
The beat holds my unfinished name.
No big answers, no clean design,
Just the quiet between names and time.
Every voice feels just a little off,
Every “sir” feels like a weight I drop.
I smile wide so they won’t see
The way my body disagrees with me.
I’ve learned to live in the in-between,
Not the man they see, not the girl I dream.
Just a soft ache I carry around,
Like church bells ringing without a sound.
I don’t need saving, I need to feel
Like this skin is something real.
I’m standing still in a moving life,
Trying to breathe through the wrong inside.
Steel guitar bends like a prayer gone wrong,
Synths hum low where I don’t belong.
No final answer, no perfect sign,
Just the quiet between names and time.
Maybe one day it won’t hurt to wake,
Maybe my name won’t feel like a mistake.
If I change, let it be slow and kind,
Like dawn learning the shape of the sky.
I’m learning how to call myself mine,
Even when the world won’t get it right.
No loud victory, no sharp divide,
Just a body learning how to survive.
I don’t need heaven, I don’t need proof,
Just room to breathe, just room for truth.
AWeekTillSunrise
