Belfast Whispers

Belfast whispers, tales woven deep.

These echoes aren't just sounds; they're a part of me, stitched into my past.

My quiet was a storm inside, thoughts racing, never fitting the mould.

Always on the outside, heart heavy with silent questions, like shadows in the evening fog.

The shadows tell stories, a narrative without words.

 
The battles aren't seen but felt, leaving scars inside, a silent proof of survival.

Amidst the whispers, I find my way through the dark, a path lit by the soft glow of old stars.

Hoping one day to find what is sought after, but forever unknown.