You say you forgot the dream,
but I see it,
screaming behind your teeth.
You say you're scared to dream now—
But,
only dreamers bleed like this.
Only dreamers would burn the house
and still ache for the warmth it once gave.
You think death is peace—
and maybe it is.
But you still breathe,
and that, too,
is resistance.
You don't need to rebuild.
Just sit.
Among what's left.
And let the ember of what was
remind you
that even if the dream is gone—
You were always worth the fire.