There’s a bullet in my brain
But it’s not made of metal
it’s a thought lodged too deep to dig out with quiet hands.
It hums when the world goes silent
A small, bright shard of yesterday that refuses to dissolve.
Some nights it pulses like a warning
Other nights it sleeps like a stone.
I walk carefully around it
As if one wrong step might set the whole mind trembling
Still, I live
With the echo
With the weight
With the strange reminder that even wounds can become architecture.
There’s a bullet in my brain
But I’ve learned to build around it
To let the light in through the cracks
To let the truth ring louder than the fear of breaking.
And maybe one day it will loosen its grip
Fall out like an old belief I no longer need
But until then
I breathe
I rise
I move carrying the proof that I survived what tried to stay inside me.