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I.
You keep fixing the surface Speech patterns, little behaviors While underground, whole continents shift Old classmates still play pretend Teachers still catch the flaws Family still melts into the versions you hope never return
You walk slow through every threat Move careful as if something huge and unseen might turn if you move too fast
Your life is a line you inch across Hoping the next step won’t wake the animal that lives inside fear
II.
You spend your days trying to fix yourself Starting with the externals Your tone, your pacing, your posture The orthodontic perfection someone once pointed out too sharply
You run into old people from old eras The girl who used to carpool with you Still sinking hours into simulated lives You follow her into a classroom that smells like childhood shame Your old kindergarten tyrant Still tracking your mouth Your mistakes
Later, you’re in a cramped French apartment With strangers who feel like half-remembered castmates
You try to be responsible Go to class, stay on track But you forget, or disappear Or sleepwalk past your obligations and suddenly you’re dropped The panic is always familiar
And under it all A strange ache of faith Wondering who’s happier Believers or everyone else Knowing you’d stay regardless But still peeking over the fence
Your life becomes a slow procession into a fenced-off zone People telling you to move gently Slow enough to not attract the charging thing you can’t see
You always try to be slow enough Careful enough, good enough
Only look when you’re certain Only move when you won’t be hurt Only trust the body when the mind is shaking
III.
Cities keep merging People from old chapters drift in like fog Leading you into rooms you thought you’d outgrown Someone erases numbers Someone cheats at life and expects you to pretend it’s normal
Your mother becomes a child Your father becomes a narrator You become the hinge between fury and fear
You try to attend your life but miss it by three classes Three days Three versions of yourself
You walk into the caged-off zone Sand under your feet Moving slower than fear allows Your cousin’s hand reaches back Pulling you into the line
You pray without knowing if the sound reaches anything
Everything in your life becomes a test of stillness Everything becomes don’t move don’t flinch don’t let the rhino smell your pulse
