My soul is aching for something lost but somehow near. Each morning I lift the mask again, hide another layer of who I used to be. This broken strength I carry built walls I never meant to build and now I’m standing in the quiet, asking what’s still left of me. All the proving, all the striving, left me hollow at the core. Every breath feels borrowed as I reach for something more. Can I reclaim my soul? Can I peel these layers back and breathe again? Is there room left to grow, or have these silenced words turned me into stone? Can I reclaim my soul? Can I rise and be me again? There’s a part of me still waiting, pressing softly through the cracks. A quiet light beneath the damage, fighting to break through the mask. I feel it flicker when I falter, I feel it tremble when I try like wings that once remembered how it felt to fly. If I let the old pain loosen, if I let my true voice speak maybe all that I’ve been hiding is exactly what I seek. Can I reclaim my soul? Let the layers fall and breathe again. Can I find my way home to the heart I thought I’d lost along the way? Can I reclaim my soul? Can I rise and be me again? Can I reclaim my soul? Let the layers fall and breathe again. Can I find my way home to the heart I thought I’d lost along the way? Can I reclaim my soul? Can I rise and be me again?
