Lyrics

They say I was a diary,A whisper left to rot,A girl behind a curtain wall,The world conveniently forgot.But I was not just parchment,Not a poem wrapped in lace,I was thunder in a child’s chest,Crushed beneath a holy face.They want me draped in sweetness,
In martyrdom and light,A ribboned saint with candle eyes,Who dreamed away the night.
But I was built from bloodlines,From silence thick as smoke,From footsteps like a death drum,And laughter that would choke.We tiptoed through the daylight,Each moment rigged to break.A sneeze, a sob, a cough too loud,Could set the floor to quake.They came like wolves with polished teeth,With names scratched from the dead,And left behind the ashes,Where the birthdays used to tread.You see the attic’s outline,The pages I once grieved,But not the breath I buried whole,Or what I still believed.I prayed not for salvation,
But to stall the final scene,Before a kiss, before the sky,Before I left the dream.You quote me like a scripture,Soft-spoken, sweet, and still,But I was spit and splinters,And ink that aimed to kill.A girl laced tight with warnings,Too wild to play the lamb,I held my pen like judgment,In a world that didn’t give a damn.They call me hope. They call me light.
They whitewash what I said.But hope was just a dying bulb,That flickered overhead.Still I wrote,because the silenceWas a deeper kind of death,And ink was all I had left,To outlive a stolen breath.I heard the sirens gurgling.I heard the glass give way.I heard my father lie to me,So I’d survive the day.I am the never-got-to,The kiss that turned to smoke.
I’m every child the world erasedAnd cloaked it as a joke.You want the haunted?Then hear this:I wrote while smoke replaced the sky, While neighbors pulled their curtains tight, And let the screaming die.I wrote in rooms where joy was punished,Where girlhood rotted slow.Where dreams were smothered in their sleep,And no one told them no.Where laughter was a deadly risk,And breath could sign your fate,Where time bled out in Bergen-Belsen,Behind a rusted gate.The clock didn’t tick,It choked.And every second screamed.I wrote before the end could come,But the end still came,And cleaned me.Don’t remember me sweet. Remember me ripped.Remember me shivering.Remember the scream that clawed through the basement walls,Then died in the throat of the listening.Remember the silence that followed,Heavy as earth on a coffin, While the world rolled over,And slept through the burning.So when you hear those boots again,And you will,When you feel the pull to look away,To call it politics,To call it not your fight,Don’t.Don’t blink.Don’t lie.Don’t dare. Listen as they burn again.Not in my name.Not stitched in scripture.Not masked in law. Not under flags that claim to be right, While stealing the nameless in dead of night.You want to honor what I wrote?Then bleed for it.even if your voice shakes.Stand when your safety breaks.I was the witness.I was the warning.and you,don’t forget what silence can bring,become the reckoning