Borrowed Time
The air feels thin tonight,
like the worldβs holding its breath,
waiting for someone to move,
to prove we still matter.
Streetlights hum in tired rhythm,
the same song theyβve always sung.
I walk through echoes,
a stranger in my own story,
half-living, half-gone.
I used to chase forever,
thinking I could outpace the fall.
Now I know,
forever was never the point.
Itβs the seconds between,
the heartbeat that dares to stay loud
when everything else whispers, stop.
Iβve seen friends drift into silence,
dreams swallowed by the grind.
They said, this is just life.
But I canβt believe
we were made to just survive it.
Every breath feels borrowed,
signed in invisible ink.
No promises, no refunds,
just the weight of now.
And somehow, that makes it sacred.
I donβt need more years,
just more meaning.
I donβt need the world to love me,
just to leave a mark that proves I was here.
So Iβll run into the fire,
even if it burns.
Iβll scream my truth
until the echo learns my name.
If Iβm borrowed, Iβll burn.
Iβll break the silence wide open,
and make my story turn.
Cause lifeβs not ours, itβs just a flame...
and I refuse to die the same.
