Learning My Own Outline

(Verse 1) I used to try to draw the ocean With a pencil and a prayer, Trying to be the storm, the wave, The everywhere. I chased the shape of something bigger, Thought I had to break it wide— Like the story only opened If I pushed it from the inside. (Verse 2) I remember the weight of wanting more, And the quiet fear of blank space. But looking back, I see the stitches now— The change in pace, the softer days. From first lines to half-known sparks, Nothing needed to be found— It was the way I stayed with the work That slowly turned me around. (Pre-Chorus) It wasn’t how far I could go, Or how loud I learned to be— It was knowing where to stop And still feel free. (Chorus) I’m learning my own outline, The shape that fits my hands. Finding where the “me” begins And the noise lets go of command. It’s not a limit, it’s a form, A place to rest, a place that’s warm. The quiet work I’ve come to know— Is learning the lines of what I grow. (Verse 3) There’s room for play and restless days, For pauses, loops, and doubt. Room to tend the small, plain things Before they all wear out. I don’t owe the world a finished thought Every time I breathe— I just owe myself the care To stay with what feels true to me. (Bridge) Same heart. Clear hands. The tools are clean, the desk is bare. I used to think I needed proof That the shape was really there. Now I know it shifts and moves, Changes gently with the light— Still mine to draw, Still mine to write. (Final Chorus) Yeah, I’m learning my own outline, The edges of my soul. Finding where the “me” begins And the rest can loosen hold. It’s not a limit, it’s a form, A place to stay, not something sworn. The truest work I’ve ever known— Is learning the lines of the home I’ve grown. (Outro) (The music thins. Just voice.) It’s a lifelong sketch. Still changing. Still here. Still me. (A soft hum — almost familiar, almost gone.)