My dream *I stood before the mirror, silent and still,* *Changed so deeply, I no longer feel real.* *No hope remains to return to that child I was—* *If I could, I'd never write my first poem at five, because…* *Once I would cry, but now I am sorrow,* *I feared the flames, now I’m tomorrow’s hell to follow.* *I’m the whisper that lured Adam from his path,* *The devil’s game—maybe I'm both his wrath and aftermath.* *I yearned so long, I asked, “What is this pain?”* *This life carved its anguish deep into my name.* *I loved a soul to share a lifetime’s breath—* *We lived a single day… yet it felt like death.* *My body holds it all—except the will to stay,* *Now all of me cries… all but the eyes turned gray.* *Among the living dead, I choose to remain unheard,* *I came to know the world—yet not myself in a word.* *If God would send a dream, I’d sleep and not wake,* *My life began with lullabies—then slowly turned fake.* *Now I write my last hope in trembling rhyme,* *Maybe I’ll vanish… but my poetry will outlive time.* *I’m the peak on the highest, coldest stone,* *So alone, even the lonely feel unknown.* *Not a name, not a summit—I’m no one’s trace,* *I looked into the glass… and saw a stranger’s face.* *No one warned me life could be torn apart,* *That a soul could linger while a body falls in shards.* *Since I met love, I’ve only wept for its fate—* *How long can a feeling be crushed beneath hate?* *I stood before the mirror, silent and still,* *Changed so deeply, I no longer feel real.* *No hope remains to return to that child I was—* *If I could, I’d never write my first poem at five, because…* *"I have buried my dreams,* *Laid my memories to rest.* *I have silenced the feelings rising in my heart,* *All because of you.* *I have closed the book of my past."*