Everyone holds a core inside- A quiet force, a hidden guide. A sharpened sense, a line so thin, Between what’s wrong and what has been. We all can feel its silent call, Yet not all heed or trust at all. For even cores can twist and shake, Can bend, can break, can lie awake. Sometimes it falters, skews, distorts, Losing sight of truths it sorts. Not by will, nor by design, But misaligned - a fate unkind. No single hand, no fault to blame, Just echoes lost within the frame.
