No loud explosion.
No dramatic goodbye.
Just one quiet morning
When getting out of bed 
felt heavier than carrying the weight of the world.
The fire inside has gone away,
As that ash turns from black to grey.
No sparks are left, no steady glow,
The warmth is gone, that low feeling.
Somewhere.
between trying to make everyone proud,
meeting every deadline,
answering every message,
and pretending,
"I'm fine,
The sparking within began to fade away.
People say,
''You're still the same"
But they don't hear 
The conversation I had with myself till 2 a.m. 
They don't see me crying in pain,
They don't see me 
Searching for a piece of myself.
In the hope 
that someone else
would remind me who I was.
But the truth is,
You can not find yourself 
In the places you abandoned yourself.
Taking one deep breath,
Trying again.
And again.
And again.
One day, I noticed something strange.
The spark was never gone,
The space is waiting there.
It does not cry, it does not weep,
It only takes a little sleep.
Now I gather the fragments I left behind,
Piece by piece, I rebuild my mind.
With renewed motivation and a hopeful heart, 
And when the wind is right, the air is clear,
The tiniest spark will find its meaning again.

.    .    .