I woke up in the middle of a good life,
Heart still clinging, bruised but loud.
All the things I thought I’d outrun
Caught up, asked if I’m still proud.
The coffee’s cold, the sky feels flat,
Still trying to name what broke and where.
Some days I shine, some days I crack,
Some days I disappear.
Every ache means I’m still alive.
We fracture open, then call it strength.
You fall in love, you lose the fight.
You say goodbye, you learn goodnight.
We’re only human for a minute,
But somehow we’re still in it.
Every ache means I’m still alive.
I wanted to mean something, not just blend in
To be seen for once, not understood.
Every whispered prayer was half confession.
Every love I lost, a quiet lesson.
We build our hearts out of accidents,
Then curse the wind when they fall apart.
Maybe grace was never meant to shine,
Just messy hands and a stubborn heart.
All my saints were doubters.
All my heroes burned away.
But they left behind a chorus
I still hum on quiet days.
I don’t need perfection,
Just proof the pain was earned.
If feeling makes me fragile,
Then let it crack and turn.
She said, “Don’t bleed for those who never stay.
You’re not the pour, you’re the cup someday.”
I laughed, but her eyes, they knew the war,
Of giving too much and being ignored.
We build our hearts out of accidents,
Then curse the wind when they fall apart.
Maybe grace was never meant to shine,
Just messy hands and a stubborn heart.
Every ache means I’m still alive.
It means I’m real beneath the fight.
The heart breaks open, lets in light.
You lose the day, but win the night.
We’re only human for a minute,
But I’d live a thousand lives within it.
Every ache means I’m still alive.