Life is a slow leak in a sealed room.
You wake up breathing, convinced the air is yours, until the walls sweat yesterdayโs regrets & the ceiling drips names youโve forgotten to mourn.
We call it โgrowing upโ when the child inside learns to smile while being buried alive.
Death isnโt the end;
itโs the only honest mirror,
showing the skull youโve been polishing
with every polite lie.