Still here | First Line Defense

The floor is cold, it keeps the shape of where I fell last night. Dust clings to my breath, like it’s trying to stay alive. A cracked window hums in the wind, its rattle counting time. My hands shake in small circles, learning how to move again. Metal in my chest, beating out a warning. Every step I take sparks against the floor. I rise from the static, burning through the wires. The world keeps breaking open, but I walk through the fire. Ash on my shoulders, sun on my skin — I’m still here, I’m still breathing in. Footsteps in the hallway echo like they used to. A door slams in the distance, and my ribs pull tight. I trace the old bruises that only I can see now. They flicker under my skin like ghosts learning to breathe. Heartbeat in my throat, pounding like a warning. But the ground beneath me finally starts to warm. I rise from the static, burning through the wires. The world keeps breaking open, but I walk through the fire. Ash on my shoulders, sun on my skin — I’m still here, I’m still breathing in. Warm rain in May runs down my face, washing the metal taste away. Friends at my side, laughing in the shade — we trade our broken stories like seeds we’ve saved. I rise from the static, burning through the wires. The world keeps breaking open, but I walk through the fire. Ash on my shoulders, sun on my skin — I’m still here, I’m still breathing in. And tomorrow, I’ll begin again. Still alive Still alive Still alive tomorrow again.. open the blinds... feel the air move...