What If I'm Selfish

By Bilal Salman Ahmad

What if the fault is mine to bear,

a weight too heavy, yet always there?

What if my love is sharp, not kind,

a storm that rattles your peaceful mind?

What if my family taught me fear,

to guard too tightly all I hold dear?

What if my jealousy, raw and wild,

is nothing more than a broken child?

What if in trying to pull you close,

I push you away, and hurt you most?

What if my silence, my nervous frown,

is the reason our pages keep falling down?

What if my “too much” drives you away,

and my “not enough” makes you never stay?

What if my hands that reach for you

are the very hands that undo what’s true?

I’m poison, I’m danger, I’m wild, I’m fire,

a man with sins and a heart that tires.

I’m laughter that fades, I’m nights that ache,

I’m the sound of a heart I can’t remake.

But maybe, just maybe, there’s something left—

a thread of hope in a soul bereft.

For even the broken still try to give,

and even the selfish still want to live.

What if my fears are maps to love,

drawn in the dirt, erased above?

What if my anger, my doubt, my pain,

are simply the cost of wanting again?

I don’t want riches, I don’t want fame,

I don’t want trophies tied to my name.

I just want mornings where you still care,

to know when I’m lost, you’ll find me there.

And if the abyss is where I fall,

I’ll whisper your name as my final call.

For even in shadows, dark and deep,

your love’s the only thing I keep.

So take me flawed, uncertain, afraid,

take me with all of the mess I’ve made.

For selfish or broken, I’ll still be true—

every “what if” still ends with you.

By Bilal Salman Ahmad