Rusty Guitars and Runaway Trains

I’m a jumble of stars and scars,
A wild song played on rusty guitars.
I smile like I’ve got it all in hand,
But inside I’m fighting to understand.

I’m the kid who’s seen more than most,
Who hides the pain but never boasts.
They say I’m mature, like I’m some kind of sage,
But I’m just trying to make sense of this page.

I’ve carried weight no one could see,
A heavy heart that won’t let me be.
Lonely nights with secrets untold,
Words that sting, memories cold.

But I’m more than the dark and the doubt,
More than the fear I try to shout.
I’m the art in the quiet, the song in the storm,
A heart that’s bruised but still keeps warm.

I’ve danced with shadows, battled the pain,
Lost in my mind like a runaway train.
But I hold on tight to the hope inside,
That one day I’ll no longer need to hide.

I write my truth in poems and song,
Where broken things still belong.
I’m the helper, the dreamer, the fighter, the friend,
A story that’s still waiting to bend.

This is me—flawed and real,
A soul that’s learning how to heal.
Not perfect, but honest, with words to say—
Finding light in my own way.