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...
I’ve seen the real you,
not the smile you rehearsed,
not the gentle tone you borrowed to deceive.
I saw the cruelty hiding in your plans,
the quiet schemes stitched together
for your own selfish gain.
I've read your pauses,
I've listened to your words,
I walked through the corridors of your intentions.
I studied you carefully,
your patterns, your tricks,
the way you turn people into tools.
You thought I was blind,
thought silence meant ignorance,
thought patience was weakness.
But while you were acting,
I was watching
while you were plotting,
I was understanding.
What worked on others
will never work on me.
I carry wisdom you underestimated,
a mind sharper than your disguise.
I am done.
Not broken, not confused—
Just finished.
You mistook me for a fool,
But let this be your lesson:
I saw through you,
long before you thought I could.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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