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...
There are two sides to every story,
Yet they choose the one who speaks the loudest,
Let them judge from a distance,
Let them think and assume what fits you best.
Their words carry no weight in your pockets,
Their judgments will never pay your bills,
They do not know the price you paid
To stand where you are, breathing today.
They never walked the miles in your shoes,
Never felt the heat of the fire within,
The quiet strength that kept you moving
Stopping would have been easier.
So let them talk in borrowed certainty,
You were busy becoming, surviving, rising,
Forged by pressure they could not endure,
Strength tempered where excuses burned away.
One day, your story will shine without permission,
Not explained, not defended, simply seen,
And those who judged from the shadows
Will witness the light they never understood.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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