The Hunt for My Sanity

The Hunt for My Sanity

The forest of my mind is restless tonight,

its paths split open by old mistakes,

I move through the quiet like a ghost of thought,

hunting for something I once believed was mine.

Each branch reaches for me with cold intent,

as if to ask what I think I’m chasing,

the wind hums low like a question I can’t answer,

and the ground breathes beneath my steps.

I follow the scent of calm through broken dreams,

through laughter that echoes without meaning,

the night grows thick, the stars look away,

and still I press on, empty but determined.

Sometimes I see it, a flash in the dark,

a reflection of peace caught on a tear,

and I run towards it, heart unsteady,

only to find it was my shadow pretending again.

The hunt is endless, cruel in its beauty,

each near-capture cuts a little deeper,

each miss leaves me half-alive,

a wanderer trapped within his own maze.

I speak to the silence as if it listens,

I bargain with the dark to give it back,

but sanity is a wild thing, untamed and wary,

it hides from hands that tremble too much.

Still I move, still I hope,

for even a whisper of light in the trees,

for the moment when the chase becomes calm,

and I can finally breathe without fear.

If I find it one day, this fragile peace,

I will not hold it too tight or too long,

I will let it sit quietly beside me,

and thank the hunt for making me whole again.