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...
My tears went dry
after seasons of falling without sound.
I thought sorrow was endless,
a well that would never empty—
But even grief grows tired of staying.
Life began to soften its voice.
The days hurt less,
the nights loosened their grip,
and I noticed a change
standing quietly at my door.
Happiness didn’t rush in—
It greeted me gently,
like it knew I was fragile,
like it respected
All I had survived.
I learned to smile without forcing it,
to breathe without fear,
to trust the warmth of ordinary moments.
The pain did not vanish,
but it stopped leading me.
My tears went dry,
not because I became cold,
but because I grew stronger.
Life got better,
and for the first time,
I welcomed it with open hands.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
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