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...
You never listened to my truth,
Only the echo that pleased the room,
Never the voice that trembled alone
In nights that refused to end.
You did not witness the hours without sleep,
Where darkness rehearsed my memories,
Where trauma breathed beside me,
Heavy, intimate, impossible to escape.
You never felt the weight of betrayal,
The slow corrosion of trust,
How disdain sharpens itself quietly
And settles deep within the chest.
What I carried would have shattered you
It taught me endurance the hard way,
Bending my spirit into survival
While the world mistook silence for ease.
Wake from the slumber of comfort,
From the blindness of distance and ease,
Set down your certainty and listen
All I ask is to be heard.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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