The Edge of Who I’ll Become
Where doubt meets destiny, and the unknown shapes the soul.
By DavescalesPublished about a year ago • 1 min read

A boy looking at what he will become
I stand where the shadows kiss the light,
At the edge of who I’ll be tonight.
A fragile line, both sharp and blurred,
A silent song, an unwritten word.
The echoes of choices, loud and clear,
Whisper of futures far and near.
Each step forward, a seed to sow,
A question asked: which way to go?
I see the spark of a life untold,
A flame that flickers, fierce and bold.
Yet doubt curls close, a ghostly hand,
Tugging me back to safer land.
But safe is stagnant, a hollow drum—
Not the edge of who I’ll become.
So I lean forward, let fear take flight,
Embrace the pull of boundless night.
For in the unknown, I hear my name,
Carved in the stars, untouched by shame.
The edge calls softly, a siren’s hum—
I step, I fall, I rise—I become.


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