[Intro – spoken/slow] Yeah… Some scars don’t show on skin. Some childhoods don’t get to be childhoods. Thirty-two years old… and I’m still walking out that house. [Hook] Nine winters in a place that never felt like home, Small kid, big silence, learned to suffer on my own. Now I’m grown but my mind still runs those halls, PTSD echoes every time the nighttime calls. I survived what they did, I ain’t what they made, I’m rebuilding every part they tried to invade. Yeah I shake, yeah I wake when the memories bleed — But I’m breathing, still standing… they didn’t bury me. [Verse 1] I remember the clock ticking louder than speech, Kitchen light buzzing, but nobody reached. Cartoons playing low just to drown out fear, Counting ceiling cracks, wishing morning was near. I was just a kid with a backpack and hope, But the air in that house felt tighter than rope. Smiles in public, doors closed — different tone, I learned real early you can feel alone not alone. I didn’t know words for the pain in my chest, Just knots in my stomach every time I tried to rest. Teachers asked why I never looked in their eyes, I was fighting storms they could never describe. Birthdays passed quiet, candles felt fake, Made wishes I was somewhere I could actually feel safe. Shoes by the door, heart racing again, Footsteps down the hallway felt louder than thunder and rain. I kept secrets like a guard, locked behind teeth, A child shouldn’t carry what was buried in me. Every night praying morning would come — Not for toys, not for games… just to live through one. [Hook] Nine winters in a place that never felt like home, Small kid, big silence, learned to suffer on my own. Now I’m grown but my mind still runs those halls, PTSD echoes every time the nighttime calls. I survived what they did, I ain’t what they made, I’m rebuilding every part they tried to invade. Yeah I shake, yeah I wake when the memories bleed — But I’m breathing, still standing… they didn’t bury me. [Verse 2] Time moved forward but my mind stayed stuck, Body got older, but the fear grew up. Crowded rooms still make my heartbeat sprint, Every sudden noise got my shoulders flinch. I’m thirty-two and sleep still comes in pieces, Nightmares replay scenes my brain never releases. People say “you’re safe now,” I nod and pretend, But my nervous system still lives back then. I learned hyper-alert, learned scanning a room, Always find exits, always expect doom. Trust feels foreign, kindness feels strange, When love used to come with emotional pain. Some days I’m fine, then a smell or a sound Throws me straight back and I’m ten years old again, not around. Hands start shaking, breath goes tight, No enemy present but I’m ready to fight. Therapy couch, first time I spoke, Words felt heavy like they physically broke. Years of silence poured out slow, Turns out healing hurts — but it helps you grow. [Hook] Nine winters in a place that never felt like home, Small kid, big silence, learned to suffer on my own. Now I’m grown but my mind still runs those halls, PTSD echoes every time the nighttime calls. I survived what they did, I ain’t what they made, I’m rebuilding every part they tried to invade. Yeah I shake, yeah I wake when the memories bleed — But I’m breathing, still standing… they didn’t bury me. [Bridge] I used to think I was broken beyond repair, Like damage was permanent living in there. But trauma ain’t destiny, pain ain’t a name, And survival itself is a powerful thing. The kid I was still lives inside my chest, I’m learning now how to finally let him rest. What they took wasn’t everything from me — They never took the man I chose to be. [Verse 3] I’m not their shadow, I’m not their past, I’m the proof that resilience can outlast. Every breath today is quiet rebellion, I built a life from emotional demolition. I’m learning boundaries, learning “no”, Learning I deserve peace I never did know. Some nights are rough, yeah healing ain’t quick, But scars became maps showing how I didn’t quit. I forgive myself for coping wrong, For anger, for distance, for staying withdrawn. Kid me survived using whatever he had — You can’t judge survival when the situation’s bad. I still get flashbacks, still get pain, But they don’t own my future, they just shaped my brain. I’m writing this not for sympathy or pity — I’m telling my story so it stops living in me. Because truth spoken out loud breaks chains, And sunlight slowly reaches old pain. Nine years tried to steal my identity — But they never stole my humanity. [Final Hook – bigger] Nine winters in a place that never felt like home, Small kid, big silence, learned to suffer on my own. Now I’m grown but my mind still runs those halls, PTSD echoes every time the nighttime calls. I survived what they did, I ain’t what they made, I’m rebuilding every part they tried to invade. Yeah I shake, yeah I wake when the memories bleed — But I’m breathing, still standing… they didn’t bury me. [Outro – soft] I made it out. And every day I stay here… I win.
