Still Here

I learned pain by the way it stays, by the way it sits down in the bone like a cold coin, shining, small, when the night keeps its hard mouth on my name. I have carried that weight through the hall of my days, through the thud of the door, through the crack in my own breath. Still, I keep my hands open when they shake. Still, I keep my hands open when they shake. What breaks in me does not own me, what breaks in me does not name me. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Not made of ruin, not made of dust I am the bruise and the pulse beneath it. There are days I speak in splinters, days I move like a door that forgot its hinge, still opening, still letting the cold in and the cold out. I have kissed the edge of losing, tasted iron, tasted ash, then stood in the same square room of my own heart and lit one small breath against the dark. Still, I keep my hands open when they shake. Still, I keep my hands open when they shake. What bends in me does not end me, what bends in me does not break me. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Not made of ruin, not made of dust I am the bruise and the pulse beneath it. Let the world say, you should be gone by now. Let the world say, you should be gone by now. I have heard the verdict, I have worn the verdict, and still my body says no, my body says no, my body says yes to another dawn. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here. Not made of ruin, not made of dust I am the bruise and the pulse beneath it. Call me by my scars (oh, call me) I am still here.