The Clearing

(The branches moved like they knew my name...)

(...but they never said it right)

Bark-lined corridors press too close

Thought I walked - but I was carried

Rules hang like fruit too high to reach

And fall when I stop pretending

Nothing here grows without a debt

Every turn's a test I never set

I keep my pace, I hold my breath

But even silence calls for steps

I'm not lost — I've been assigned

A path engraved before my mind

This forest speaks in quiet codes

That cage the ones who won't decode

(Yeah - still trapped in the script)

(Can you hear it?)

They build their truths in perfect rings

Deadwood smiles, and rusted wings

No room for roots that twist or sprawl

Only straight lines, tall and small

They nod when I align my face

But flinch the moment I misplace

A thought, a word, a different sound

The soil shifts, I sink back down

I'm not lost — I've been observed

Measured quiet, labeled, curved

I learned the tone, I wore the frame

But still they carve a newer name

(You don't see me)

(But you're watching)

The trees recede — the sky unfolds

Stone meets wind on fractured hold

Below — no end; ahead — no law

A cliff where breath forgets to draw

(It's so quiet here…)

(No rules left… just air)

I'm not free — just undefined

No fitting mold, no exit sign

The edge remains — the forest stills

I lean toward air that never fills

(Just one step — would it matter?)

(Would they notice?)

And as I stood at the clearing's line

The ground said nothing

For the first time

(…finally)