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...
Once an innocent girl with open eyes,
Dreams folded neatly in her hand,
She believed the world was soft and fair,
A place that life would understand.
Then poverty spoke before her time,
With an unforgiving, urgent tone.
School doors closed, not by her choice,
But by hunger she had always known.
Books were traded for heavy days,
For early mornings, restless nights.
She learned to hustle far too young,
To turn survival into fights.
Now she stands as a single mother,
With a child pressed close to her heart.
Life was never fair to her,
It broke her before she could start.
Still, there is strength in her quiet walk,
In the way she carries pain.
She asks the world for nothing much—
Just mercy, not disdain.
To God she cries without her pride,
Without disguise, without shame.
“Rescue me in this cruel world,
Before my child learns the same.”
Her prayer is not a weakness shown,
But courage rising through despair.
For even broken faith still hopes,
And even tears are heard in prayer.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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