Something Killing Me

Something is killing me,

but it wears no face,

speaks no name.

It crawls quietly,

through the cracks in my ribs,

settling deep

where no light can reach.

It is not fire,

yet I burn.

It is not a knife,

yet I bleed.

It is not death,

yet I die a little more

with every breath I take.

Something is killing me—

slowly,

mercilessly,

like a shadow that waits at the edge of dawn,

knowing I cannot escape

the weight of its silence.

I smile,

but my bones are trembling.

I laugh,

but my lungs are drowning.

I move through the world

like a ghost pretending to be human,

while inside,

I am already ash.

And the cruelest part—

no one sees it.

No one hears it.

No one knows

that something is killing me,

and the only witness

is me.