Verse 1 There’s a storm inside my ribs, lightning crawls like a thief through my bones. Whispers echo down the hollow stairwells of a house I was raised to fear alone. They say, “Follow the tremor in your chest,” but I’ve seen where my heartbeat can go— into skylines painted in wildfire, into nights I don’t survive when they glow. Pre-Chorus Every soft emotion feels like a match near gasoline, and I flinch at every sunrise ’cause dawn once taught me how to scream. Chorus So don’t tell me to trust my feelings like they’re gentle, like they’re kind— my feelings are wolves with burning halos, running loose inside my mind. I’m trying, God I’m trying, but the flames still lick my healing. How can I trust my feelings when they’re the very thing I’m terrified of being? Verse 2 Some days I’m just a fault line breathing, waiting for the inevitable spark. Other days I’m a paper lantern, glowing desperately against the dark. You say, “Your heart knows the way,” but my heart is a compass that spins— pointing north into manic galaxies, toward supernovas wearing my skin. Pre-Chorus If I follow every flutter, I risk turning into fire again— a blaze that blinds the people who try to hold me in the end. Chorus So don’t tell me to trust my feelings like they’re gentle, like they’re wise— my feelings build cathedrals made of thunder, then cut the power in my eyes. I’m trying, God I’m trying, but the ground keeps shifting, reeling. How can I trust my feelings when they’re the very thing that taught my fear its meaning? Bridge But there’s a voice beneath the chaos, quiet as a feather in the rain— it says I’m more than every eruption, more than trauma’s wired chain. Maybe trust is not a freefall, maybe it’s a slow return to breath— a trembling hand held open to what’s living underneath the wreck. Breakdown (Instrumental + Whispered Lines) Don’t run… don’t hide… the stars don’t fear their own light… you’re allowed to shine without burning… Final Chorus So I’m learning to trust my feelings, even when they shake like winter trees— to taste the sky without ascending into manic destinies. I’m trying, God I’m trying, and maybe that alone is healing. I’m learning to trust my feelings— not the storm they once created, but the quiet truth beneath their ceiling. Outro And if the fire comes again, I won’t face it on my knees— I’ll hold the night with steadier hands, and let myself be free.
