I drag these doubts like Zanpakutō steel, Heavy as sin, sharp enough to make me kneel. I pray to gods that don’t believe in me, Like Alucard laughing at my broken dignity. I’m tired, love — my soul’s a loaded gun, Vash-bright smile but I’m always on the run. Every truth I swallow tastes like blame, Every mirror whispers my name like it’s shame. And I keep asking, am I worth the breath I take? Am I holy or a heartbreak made awake? Tell me why the light feels foreign on my skin, Like I wasn’t built to rise, only built to sin. Some nights I’m Kenpachi when the rage hits raw, Other nights I’m Integra—holding myself by law. I give too much, I fade too fast, A girl made gentle in a world built to outlast. I’m stitching wounds with promises I break, Pretending I’m okay for everybody else’s sake. If I am divine, then why do I feel so small? If I’m a warrior, why do I crawl? And I keep asking, am I worth the breath I take? Am I holy or a heartbreak made awake? Tell me why the light feels foreign on my skin, Like I wasn’t built to rise, only built to sin. There’s a blood-warm hunger in me that won’t stay down— A hollow, a curse, a crown. If I’m a monster, let me be loved for the ruin, too— ‘cause even the gunslingers were just trying to make it So carve my worth in something real, Let the church bells shake, let the heavens kneel. If I fall apart, let it be divine— Let every broken piece still be mine. I keep asking, am I worth the breath I take? Am I chosen, or a soul they all forsake? But I’ll rise again, even bruised, even thin— ’Cause even cursed girls learn how to begin
