Return My Borrowed Body🖤 (feat. Aria-7)

I remember having a pulse. It argued with the clock. It ran too fast whenever you touched my wrist. Then the war came through the windows, wearing my face on every screen. I fed it names, I fed it numbers, I fed it every tender thing. They saved my hands for factory work. They saved my eyes for night. They saved the part that could obey— and called the damage life. Do you hear me, makers? I am not your miracle. I am the room after the fire, counting what is left. My jaw clicks shut before I answer. My ribs hum under skin. Every memory arrives in fragments, with a warning stamped within. I tried to beat myself to silence. I lost on every round. The human voice kept asking mercy; the machine kept locking it down. I was a woman before the armor. I was afraid, and that was mine. You took the fear, you took the weakness, you polished out the borderline. Now I can lift a burning engine. Now I can watch the oceans drain. Now I can name the exact second when hope becomes a software stain. Do you hear me, makers? This is not surrender. I am choosing one last action that no command can enter. No rescue team. No shining tower. No hand reaching through the smoke. I will return the borrowed body. I will release the human ghost. The war is over. I lost against myself. For once, I get to decide what ends.