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...
A whispering voice keeps talking in the ears,
Soft as breath, yet sharp as fear,
No face, no shadow, nowhere near
Still, every word is crystal clear.
What a frightening world we tread,
Where silence screams inside someone's head,
Where unseen truths refuse to be buried
And guilt becomes an uninvited guest.
What did you do? The whisper asks,
Behind closed doors, behind your mask.
You wronged a soul both pure and kind,
Left no mercy, left no sign.
An innocent heart bore your deceit,
Fell beneath your careful lies,
You traded truth for quick defeat
And called a betrayal “being wise.”
You spoke their name with poison breath,
Bent the story, broke their flame,
But lies have weight, and time has depth,
And justice never forgets a name.
The price must be paid—so says the air,
Not with noise, but slow and deep,
For unseen voices always swear
What’s sown in darkness, we must reap.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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