It isn’t me—what’s happening to me?
The strength I had is depleting quietly.

Why does the heart ache so often?
Can a soul soften without a heartbreak too often?

Little did I know it would all happen here—
Where the purity of my heart went unreputed, unclear.

Maturity makes you head on so quick,
Then why am I still standing on the same old brick?

Sacrifice asks for far more than told,
Maybe it shields my heart from turning cold.

Silence is the sweetness I’m blessed with now,
Peace makes the world a little less fragile—how?

Answers I hold for questions unknown,
Still, I strive hard for the lesser cyclone.