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There’s a room behind my forehead Where the noise goes thin Where unfinished conversations Fold themselves within I sit with every echo I don’t rush it out the door I let the questions breathe On the wooden floor The clock doesn’t accuse me The mirror doesn’t speak There’s something in the silence That makes the strong feel weak If I stop running long enough I hear what I’ve been from In the quiet between the thoughts There’s a current pulling slow Not telling me who to be Just asking what I know Not every answer has a shape Not every truth is loud Some revelations whisper Underneath the crowd I trace the outline of my fears Like maps I used to trust See which ones were inherited Which were built from dust There’s a difference between protection And a self-imposed cage Between survival instincts And living on a stage I’ve played so many versions Of what I thought they’d need But who am I when no one’s Watching me concede? The stillness isn’t empty It’s heavy with design In the quiet between the thoughts There’s a soft electric hum Not pushing me toward glory Just asking what I’ve become Not every loss is failure Not every doubt’s a flaw Sometimes contemplation Is the deepest form of awe What if I don’t fix it? What if I just see? What if the thing I’m chasing Is already me? The mind can build a courtroom With evidence and blame But the heart keeps simpler records It only asks my name In the quiet between the thoughts I feel the edges blend Where who I was and who I am No longer need to defend No thunder, no epiphany No lightning from above Just breath becoming honest And honesty becoming love The world keeps moving loudly But here I learn to pause Sometimes the deepest answers Are the ones without applause.