Before the Dawn

Please don't disappear yet, not until this darkness ends.

The city lights blur, like a future out of focus. My voice, putting on a brave front, trembles on this night I'm alone. Every time I say "I'm fine," I leave something behind, hiding the self that can't quite smile.

Hey, why is it that tears feel this warm? If it's okay to stay weak, I'd feel just a little bit saved.

Still here, before the dawn, I'm standing frozen in place, gathering up the wishes that spilled out of me. Behind the voice that whispered "I can't anymore," a fading light is still breathing.

I kept running, always chasing someone else's back, until I couldn't hear the sound of my own footsteps anymore.

Hey, and still — something deep in my chest is shouting, that it doesn't want this to end, that there's still time.

Still here, before the dawn, I grip this trembling hand of mine, hold it tight, and start walking again. It's okay to cry, I won't stop moving — because just beyond the sunrise, I know something's waiting.

Still weak as I am, I'll keep moving forward anyway.