The mountain never bowed to applause, Nor did the river pause for tears. The sky has carried a thousand storms Without remembering a single face. You are a traveler, not the road. A heartbeat, not the clock. The world was already speaking Long before it learned your name. Some goodbyes bloom from seasons, Not from mistakes. Some distances are drawn by time, Not by the hands that reach across them. Don't make yourself the author Of every unfinished sentence. Some pages are left blank Because silence belongs there. There is a strange mercy In not standing at the center Of every ending, Of every change. The sun does not rise to prove a point. The stars do not dim to send a message. Life simply unfolds, Wild, indifferent, beautiful. So carry your kindness, Leave your footprints lightly, And when the world turns without asking, Smile. It's not about you. That's how it is. © 2026 Gloria Penelope
They spoke my name
like it wasn’t mine.
Bent it.
Passed it around
in rooms I never entered,
in mouths that never asked me anything.
They said it loud,
confident,
Like lies get stronger
When you don’t hesitate.
And suddenly
I was guilty of stories
I never lived,
wearing accusations
like clothes someone else tailored for me.
Have you ever watched the truth
stand in the corner
While rumors get the microphone?
I have.
It hurts quieter than shouting
but deeper than fists.
I learned how silence feels
when it’s mistaken for weakness.
How dignity gets heavy
when you’re carrying it alone.
But hear me—
lies travel fast,
yeah,
but they don’t age well.
Truth limps,
but it arrives with receipts.
I’m still here.
Scarred, yes.
But not erased.
You can poison my name,
But you can’t live my life for me.
I walk forward
with my head high,
because one day
the same mouths that broke me
will choke on the truth.
And when that day comes,
I won’t scream.
I won’t explain.
My survival
will say everything.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
Comments