There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
What a year I carried on my back, Heavy as stone, slow as pain, Days stretched longer than hope itself, Nights whispered failure again and again. Everything went wrong, one by one, As if the world rehearsed my fall, Setbacks lined the road like scars, And mercy never came at all. I felt like karma knew my name, Calling me out for crimes unknown, Punishing me without a trial, Leaving me to stand alone. What a year—if it was a year at all, Or just a chapter soaked in grief, Not destiny, not God’s desire, Just life testing my belief. I questioned the meaning behind the pain, Wondered what lesson I failed to see, Asked the sky in quiet moments, “Why did this all come to me?” But now I stand at a gentler door, A new year breathing, clean and wide, Carrying hope I almost lost, Still bruised, yet not denied. Maybe—just maybe—a new year will heal me, Bring light where shadows used to stay, Turn every loss into a seed, And teach my heart how to rise again, not break, but stay. I enter so...