You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
They gave hatred a name,
A nickname sharp as stone,
Spoken in laughter,
As if I was never born whole.
They forgot I had a real name,
One whispered once with care,
Now buried under jokes and smirks,
Lost in the open air.
Laughter rose like a cruel fire,
Hatred dressed as play,
Every word is a quiet push
Pulling my fragile soul away.
Negativity held me by the ankles,
Dragged me through each day,
While dreams grew tired of standing
And hope learned how to sway.
Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide,
Just rooms full of broken ties,
Family wounds left open wide,
Conflicts that never learned to die.
I cried in silence,
Tears with no cloth to claim,
No shoulder, no mercy,
Only the echo of shame.
What a shame, this world can be—
To strip a soul of dignity,
To laugh while someone disappears
Slowly, painfully, silently.
Yet still I breathe beneath the weight,
Still carry the truth they tried to erase:
I was never the name they used—
I was a human,
I had a face.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
Comments