Train Wreck

Sometimes life turns into that very “train wreck” - when you stand amid the wreckage of your own decisions and try to understand how it all happened. Outside, it seems quiet, but inside there is smoke, sparks, and a voice whispering, “It's not time yet.” And in this strange twilight, hope suddenly appears - absurd, stubborn, like a sprout growing out of asphalt. It doesn't promise a magical rescue, it just lends a hand and helps you get up while the ashes are still warm.

Each line is like a breath after a scream - about how much you want to fix what's broken, erase what's been said, and put yourself back together piece by piece. Not for the sake of drama, but for the sake of life itself. Because somewhere beneath the layers of pain, beneath the “bad blood” and fatigue, your home still breathes - the inner home where you can start building again.