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...
Life unveils itself in naked light,
Through shattered hopes and endless nights.
It speaks in trials, sharp and slow,
In wounds you never chose to know.
Each setback carves the soul with fire,
Each betrayal destroys passion.
What breaks you open, piece by piece,
Is where delusions eventualy end.
Tears fall, not as signs of defeat,
But rather holy waters, sweet fluids.
They cleanse the heart of borrowed dreams,
And strip the world of false regimes.
Your fate arrives in broken ways,
Disguised as loss, disguised as pain.
Sudden turns you never planned
Lead trembling feet to firmer land.
And day by day, through scar and flame,
Your destiny learns its true name.
Not written once, nor sealed in stone,
But shaped by the truth you face alone.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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