Told to come out of my shell But they do not know. Forced to retreat - Not hiding, but surviving. This shell is not weakness, nor fear, But the armor I built to stay here.
Forged in Silence
From Sorrow’s Depths
A glass of fire, both bitter and sweet, Whiskey in hand, now tainted, not so neat. Shards of trust deeply cut, their edges raw A sudden plunge, a pit I never saw.
my letters from beyond the fire 