If It's Gone

If It's Gone
If this disappears…
what’s left of me?

I learned my name through what I make,
through hands that shape, through sparks I chase.
It’s how I learned to take up space,
how I proved I wasn’t a waste.
When the world looked straight through me,
this was how I stayed seen
the one thing I could give away
and still feel like I was me.

They say I’m more than what I do,
but they don’t feel it like I do.
If this goes dark, if this runs dry
what part of me survives?


If this is gone, what am I then?
If I can’t make it shine again?
This is the proof I ever mattered,
the thing that kept me from the end.
If this is taken, if it breaks,
tell me what I’m worth to save
’cause without this fire in my hands,
I don’t know who I am.

I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know who I am.

I’ve poured myself into the craft,
bled quiet hours no one saw.
Every doubt I tried to outrun
waited for me when it was gone.
They say, “You’re still enough alone,”
but that feels thin, feels incomplete
like stripping the only language
I ever used to speak.

I’m scared of empty hands,
scared of being just a name.
If this leaves me behind
what stays?

If this is gone, what am I then?
If I can’t make it shine again?
This is the proof I ever mattered,
the thing that kept me from the end.
If this is taken, if it fades,
tell me what I’m worth to save
’cause without this fire in my hands,
I don’t know who I am.

I know I shouldn’t measure worth
by something I can lose…
but this was how I learned to breathe,
how I learned to choose
to stay.

If I’m left with nothing else,
no skill, no spark, no flame
I’m terrified I’ll finally see
there’s nothing underneath my name.

But if this falters, if it bends,
maybe it’s not how I end.
Maybe I’m more than what I build,
more than proof I ever did.
If this goes quiet, if it breaks,
maybe I still get to stay
learning who I am beneath
the thing that taught me how to be.

I don’t want to lose this part of me…
but I’m still here
even if I do.