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...
Your rudeness struck a hidden spark,
Summoning the self you swore lived nowhere in me,
You mistook restraint for emptiness,
And silence for a soul without weight.
You named me harmless, easily bent,
A shadow fit to be pushed and passed,
You toyed with my kindness as if it were cheap,
Mistaking mercy for weakness.
You dressed your cruelty as amusement,
Reduced my worth to something disposable,
But dignity does not vanish—it waits,
Patient as fire beneath ash.
Now you face the truth you awakened,
Not loud, not reckless, but unyielding,
A presence forged from every slight you offered,
Standing where your control once lived.
So learn to live with the self you summoned,
Or turn away and leave me untouched,
Carry your life forward without me
I will forget you as easily as I once forgave you.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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