Metanoia

I wore the weight of silent years,

A ghost inside my living skin.

Every sunrise looked the same,

Another chance I couldn't let begin.

I built my home from fear and doubt,

Stacking empty tomorrows high.

Breathing wasn't living then— I only learned how not to die.

Then in the quiet,

A truth cut deeper than despair:

No hand was reaching through the dark...

No one was waiting there.

This is my metanoia.

The fire inside the fall.

If no one comes to save this life,

Then I will answer the call.

I'll break the chains I forged myself,

I'll tear these walls apart.

Today I choose to rise again And rescue my own heart.

Every dream I left behind Still whispered underneath the dust.

Every scar became a map

Leading back to who I was.

The mirror finally showed the truth— Not someone broken past repair,

But someone waiting patiently For courage to meet them there.

Enough pretending.

Enough delay.

Enough surrendering another day.

The fear can walk beside me now,

But it will never lead.

This is my metanoia.

Not comfort.

Not escape. A revolution of the soul,

A choice my hands will make.

I'll build tomorrow from these ruins,

Stone by broken stone.

I'd rather fight through endless night Than die while standing still alone.

Let every version of me That settled for survival

Fade into the earth.

Let every lie I've carried Become the soil Where something stronger grows.

Hope isn't falling from the heavens.

It rises

When I do.

This is my metanoia.

The turning of the tide.

The moment I stopped waiting For another life to arrive.

I am the hands that lift me.

I am the voice that stays.

I am the reason I keep walking Through the darkest days.

The world may never change for me,

But I can still become The person I was always meant to

be... And finally... Come home.

I thought I needed saving.

I only needed

To stand.