Before Disappearing by K.P. Kinetic Poetry

[Verse 1 — vocal quiet, plainspoken, conversational; no vibrato, no reverb tail, just a voice talking almost to itself]
The backpack ready
for a long time now,
like someone keeping an exit
in case they can't take it anymore.

The city still awake,
me faking normal,
nodding my head
so I don't have to explain.

The elevator lights
seemed to ask
if there was still something
worth fighting for.

And me looking down,
nothing left to answer,
like someone arriving too late
to their own darkness.

[Instrumental transition — electric guitar enters quietly underneath, warm and restrained, doubling the bass line rather than adding new melody; still no drums]

[Verse 2 — same plainspoken delivery, slightly more resigned]
No goodbyes,
no final truth,
just the sound of my steps
leaving it all behind.

I was already lost
before disappearing,
before becoming someone
I wouldn't want to see.

With the wet streets,
the night brushing my skin,
and the words I never said
silent on the platform.

[Verse 3 — delivery steadies, almost observational; this is the narrator watching themselves from outside for a moment]
A vending machine lit up,
bad coffee, blue light,
the station half empty,
no one watching where you are.

My reflection in the window
looked like just another one,
someone slowly running
without knowing where it ends.

And I thought
sometimes surviving
was daring to run
before staying there.

[Instrumental lift — very subtle, maybe a second guitar layer or soft percussion entering for the first time, brushed rather than struck; still restrained, never swelling into a full band]

[Verse 4 — vocal gains a little more warmth and certainty here, without ever raising in volume; this is the emotional turn of the song]
It wasn't courage,
or the will to keep going,
it was fear of staying
without trying again.

I left before disappearing,
before the silence
could devour me
and turn me into it.

With the signs turned off,
the city in shades of gray,
all the lives I never had
pushing me forward.

Maybe tomorrow I'll regret it,
maybe I'll want to go back,
but for the first time in years
I felt the air as I breathed.

I left before disappearing,
with the dawn behind me,
breaking on the glass
as the train pulled away.

And even if I found nothing,
even if it all went wrong,
at least that early morning
I heard myself breathe again

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[Instrumental Intro — dry, exposed double bass alone; bowed notes close-mic'd, every finger movement and string noise audible; no ambient sweep, no cinematic buildup, just a person and an instrument in a room] [Verse 1 — vocal quiet, plainspoken, conversational; no vibrato, no reverb tail, just a voice talking almost to itself] The backpack ready for a long time now, like someone keeping an exit in case they can't take it anymore. The city still awake, me faking normal, nodding my head so I don't have to explain. The elevator lights seemed to ask if there was still something worth fighting for. And me looking down, nothing left to answer, like someone arriving too late to their own darkness. [Instrumental transition — electric guitar enters quietly underneath, warm and restrained, doubling the bass line rather than adding new melody; still no drums] [Verse 2 — same plainspoken delivery, slightly more resigned] No goodbyes, no final truth, just the sound of my steps leaving it all behind. I was already lost before disappearing, before becoming someone I wouldn't want to see. With the wet streets, the night brushing my skin, and the words I never said silent on the platform. [Verse 3 — delivery steadies, almost observational; this is the narrator watching themselves from outside for a moment] A vending machine lit up, bad coffee, blue light, the station half empty, no one watching where you are. My reflection in the window looked like just another one, someone slowly running without knowing where it ends. And I thought sometimes surviving was daring to run before staying there. [Instrumental lift — very subtle, maybe a second guitar layer or soft percussion entering for the first time, brushed rather than struck; still restrained, never swelling into a full band] [Verse 4 — vocal gains a little more warmth and certainty here, without ever raising in volume; this is the emotional turn of the song] It wasn't courage, or the will to keep going, it was fear of staying without trying again. I left before disappearing, before the silence could devour me and turn me into it. With the signs turned off, the city in shades of gray, all the lives I never had pushing me forward. Maybe tomorrow I'll regret it, maybe I'll want to go back, but for the first time in years I felt the air as I breathed. I left before disappearing, with the dawn behind me, breaking on the glass as the train pulled away. And even if I found nothing, even if it all went wrong, at least that early morning I heard myself breathe again

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