I step into the real world, A fool on a journey, Chasing a ghost named hope, Scared of what comes next.
Yet I walk forward, Each footfall heavy, Pressing into the pavement, Wishing the cracks would not grow.
At first, the flowers greet me, Soft petals brushing my fingertips, Colors bright, intoxicating, Hope dancing in the wind.
But beauty is fragile, And footsteps unforgiving. The flowers begin to bend, Begin to break.
Someone—something—has crushed the flowers, Torn the road apart, Left me wandering, Hands empty, heart heavy.
The pavement is no longer whole, Fractured under careless hands, Cracked beneath the weight of cruelty, Splitting open like a wound.
I kneel to gather the pieces, Try to water what is dead, Try to hold onto a dream Already slipping through my fingers.
But maybe the pavement was always broken, Maybe the flowers were never mine to keep. Maybe hope was just a mirage, And I was always meant to walk alone.
The road does not care if I stay, The flowers do not mourn as they die. I stand in the silence, Realizing—there was never anything here at all.