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WHAT LEAVES US IS WHAT WE WERE NEVER MEANT TO KEEP.
The Things We Carry Until They Break Us
Empty pockets. Open hands. A life still waiting.
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Some burdens do not belong to us, yet we carry them for years, afraid of who we might become without them.
My pockets are empty…
no coins,
no folded notes,
no weight to drag me down
as I walk these silent roads.
Once,
I filled them with small things
receipts, worn-out dreams,
promises lost in between.
I carried more than I should,
things never meant for me,
trying to feel rich
in a life that made me bleed…
But piece by piece,
it all slipped away..
not with noise or warning,
just gone, day by day..
Now my pockets are empty,
and my hands feel strange and bare,
no past left to hold,
no fear waiting there…









