They say whatever is meant for you
will find you—
as if fate has hands,
as if destiny knows your name.
But when the wind carried smoke,
it found me too—
not love, not fortune,
just the bitter breath
of someone else’s fire.
I never asked for it,
yet it clung to my lungs,
pressed its mark into my skin,
like an unwanted inheritance.
If this is what “meant for me” means,
then let the world know—
I want no gifts from fate
that arrive in ash.