I trace the lines inside my hand Like burnt-out roads in desert sand Every fork, every sign I missed Every choice I made with a trembling fist I wore my pride like a second skin Ran through storms I let break in Now I sit with the quiet hum Of all the places I could’ve become Was it me, or was it fate? Was the wrong door meant to wait? If I turned left, would I be whole? Or was I walking what I’m told? Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars? Roads on my palm, they fade But they still mark who we are If there’s another life Will I still chase the same star? Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars? I asked the mirror for a name It gave me back my face and shame All the mistakes I call my own All the seeds I never let be shown Maybe pain was part of the school Maybe loss was the hidden rule Maybe every door I let behind Was a step toward this wounded mind Was it me, or was it fate? Was the wrong door meant to wait? If I broke myself to learn Was that the only way to turn? Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars? Roads on my palm, they fade But they still mark who we are If there’s another life Will I still chase the same star? Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars? If my soul is on a mission Then why does it move like rain? Why do some prayers sound like prison? Why do some answers come in pain? Maybe I came here to be cracked So the light could find its track Maybe I was never lost Maybe I was the path I crossed Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars? Roads on my palm, they fade But they still mark who we are If there’s another life I’ll meet my shadow where you are Was I meant this way? Or did I make the scars?
