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...
She woke up each day beneath borrowed skies,
no wage, no voice, no space to breathe.
Her worth measured in his commands,
her silence enforced by threats dressed as "love".
Rules lived heavier than wedding rings,
abusive words echoing through thin walls.
She learned to shrink, to obey the storm,
to survive by becoming invisible.
Dreams folded themselves into corners,
waiting for mercy that never arrived.
Even kindness felt like a risk,
even hope learned to whisper.
One night, exhaustion spoke louder than fear.
Her heart packed what her hands could not
dignity, courage, a wounded strength
grown from years of restraint.
She did not argue.
She did not explain.
She walked past the door that caged her life,
leaving silence where control once lived.
No goodbye was owed to cruelty.
Freedom does not announce itself.
It simply leaves
and begins again.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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