You laugh at them. You point your finger and call them a fool. Their silence amuses you, their gentleness becomes your joke, and the crowd joins your laughter as if kindness were weakness. It feels enjoyable today, sweet on your tongue like careless victory. Their patience becomes your stage, their humility your entertainment. But time is a quiet witness. It watches without speaking, It writes its lessons slowly in the turning pages of life. A day will come When laughter turns into tears. The echoes of your mockery will return to your own ears like thunder across an empty sky. Situations will arise without warning, storms without hands to beat you Yet heavy enough to break your pride. Pain will arrive quietly, And you will feel the trembling of a heart that once laughed too loudly. And that fool, that funny person you once mocked, may stand in the distance, not laughing, but witnessing your tears, your shaking voice, Your falling ego. For life has a patient way of bending the tallest p...
Fear wears a crown and calls itself pride,
Standing tall on borrowed authority.
Its voice is loud, its heart is hollow,
A drum of dominance beating over silence.
Before you stands an educated wife,
A mind refined, a spirit awake,
Yet you bind her brilliance with invisible chains,
Turning partnership into quiet captivity.
You speak to her as though she were unthinking clay,
As though her eyes do not witness your cruelty,
As though her mind does not measure every lie
You dress in love and discipline as care.
You reprogram devotion into obedience,
Not from strength, but from terror,
The terror that she may rise beyond you,
That her light might expose the smallness you hide.
So you shrink her world to soothe your wounds,
Mistaking control for leadership,
Confusing fear with respect,
And dominance with worth.
Your insecurity learns the language of narcissism,
A mirror polished only for yourself,
Where her reflection is erased,
And only your fragile image remains.
Know this: pride built on fear will always rot.
Power born of intimidation starves the soul.
And no matter how tightly you script her silence,
Truth waits patiently,
Watching, remembering,
Unafraid.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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