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
I lingered where the candle died,
A fleeting breath that should have sighed.
Hands once warm, now cold as stone,
Left me trembling, left me alone.
The clock froze when my heart gave out,
The world kept spinning, unaware of doubt.
They thought the darkness would bury me deep,
But I woke where the shadows never sleep.
Through walls I drift, a silent glare,
I see their eyes, but they don't see mine.
Whispers curl around their dreams,
Twisting laughter into silent screams.
I taste the fear they cannot flee,
A bitter draught of memory.
Each step I take behind their walls,
A ghost’s revenge in quiet calls.
I was undone in a fleeting night,
Yet now I am endless, veiled in fright.
No chains can bind me, no grave can hold,
A spirit’s fury cannot grow cold.
And though I wail without a tongue,
Their guilt is written, forever sung.
For I am the shadow they failed to see,
The echo of life that will not set free.
I haunt the places they thought were mine,
A restless mark through endless time.
Death may have taken the flesh I bore,
But my vengeance lives forevermore.
© 2025 Gloria Penelope
Comments