INHERITANCE

Versuri

Verse 1 I’ve died a thousand quiet deaths Behind the curtain of my mind Watched myself become a memory Then leave the room behind Some endings come like mercy Some arrive disguised as sleep Some promise there’ll be nothing Waiting underneath That’s the lie I almost envy— That vanishing is clean Like pulling one loose thread Won’t tear apart the seam But every time I follow That fantasy beyond the door I find my pain still breathing In people I adore Chorus So I make myself look further Past the quiet, past relief Past the place where I feel nothing To the birthplace of their grief My darkness wouldn’t follow me It’d settle somewhere new Take pieces of the ones I love And hollow out a room I’d become an empty doorway A name they couldn’t say A question with no answer That gets heavier with age I used to think that dying Meant the hurting finally ceased Now I know it only breaks apart And chooses who receives it Verse 2 Someone would search old messages For something they ignored Turn ordinary sentences Into evidence of more Someone would curse the telephone For never ringing twice Someone would spend a lifetime Reconstructing my last night They’d wonder if I meant it When I laughed the week before Whether every “I’m alright” Was something they should’ve explored And I’d be past explaining Past apology or blame While people who once loved me Learned to fear my name Chorus So I make myself look further Past the quiet, past release Past the seductive promise That absence equals peace Because sorrow doesn’t vanish When the body disappears It changes its address And starts collecting years I’d become a missing heartbeat At a table set for more A photograph turned facedown In somebody’s bottom drawer I used to call it freedom When my thoughts became severe Now I see the exit differently: I’m not ending pain— I’m leaving it here Bridge And that’s the ugliest truth: Sometimes I don’t stay for hope. Sometimes hope feels insulting. Sometimes tomorrow is just another thing I have to survive. There isn’t always sunrise waiting behind the black. Sometimes there is only black— and the decision not to hand it to somebody else. Because grief is patient. It moves into photographs. Birthdays. Old clothes. Unfinished conversations. It learns everyone’s voice. And long after you’re gone, it keeps answering when they call your name. Verse 3 So when my mind starts painting A world relieved of me I force myself to watch What comes after the fantasy The chair nobody sits in The jacket no one moves The stupid little objects Nobody knows what to do with The anger at the funeral The silence afterward The people saying “I should’ve” Until it becomes a curse And somewhere in that wreckage Is the truth I couldn’t outrun: My ending wouldn’t finish anything. It would become everyone else’s beginning. Final Chorus So I carry what is in me Even when it feels obscene Even when my own reflection Looks like someone I haven’t seen Not because I’ve found an answer Not because the dark withdrew Not because I’ve made some promise That I’ll suddenly pull through I stay because I’ve followed That thought farther than before And every road toward nothing Leaves somebody keeping score Death keeps promising subtraction. But I’ve finally learned its trick: It takes one person’s suffering and divides it among the living. Outro Maybe tomorrow I’ll want morning. Tonight, I don’t require that. Tonight I only need to know the darkness asking me to disappear is lying about what disappears with me. So it can sit here. It can whisper. It can wait. But it doesn’t get to choose who inherits me.