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
Failure upon failure
like waves that never learn mercy,
each one rises higher than the last,
crashing into what little I managed to build.
Trials come as fire,
not the kind that warms,
but the kind that hunts,
burning beginnings before they can breathe.
Dreams turn to smoke,
plans to blackened bones.
Morning arrives without promise,
Tomorrow is an empty word,
Hope is a language I no longer speak.
I wake only because sleep lets me go.
Every finger points in my direction
sharp, accusing, certain.
They do not ask what I carried.
They only measure what I dropped.
In their eyes, I am the lesson,
the warning, the mistake.
I feel like a victim in my own life,
trapped inside a story
Others narrate with cruel confidence.
Even my strength is questioned,
Even my silence is judged.
I searched the ruins for light,
but found only echoes of who I was.
Faith feels foolish here,
Prayers fall like stones, unanswered.
All hope seems lost,
buried beneath ash and blame,
beneath fires that never taught me how to rise_
only how to burn.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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