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It's Not About You #poemaday #poetryaddict #poem

The mountain never bowed to applause, Nor did the river pause for tears. The sky has carried a thousand storms Without remembering a single face. You are a traveler, not the road. A heartbeat, not the clock. The world was already speaking Long before it learned your name. Some goodbyes bloom from seasons, Not from mistakes. Some distances are drawn by time, Not by the hands that reach across them. Don't make yourself the author Of every unfinished sentence. Some pages are left blank Because silence belongs there. There is a strange mercy In not standing at the center Of every ending, Of every change. The sun does not rise to prove a point. The stars do not dim to send a message. Life simply unfolds, Wild, indifferent, beautiful. So carry your kindness, Leave your footprints lightly, And when the world turns without asking, Smile. It's not about you. That's how it is. © 2026 Gloria Penelope
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Grey is All I know #sadpoetry #poem

Poverty claimed my heart
without asking for permission.
It moved in quietly,
then stayed long enough
to feel permanent.

Now I cannot tell
What is good
And what is bad,
Everything feels the same,
flat, muted,
colorless.
Life wears only one shade to me,
and it is neither dark nor bright,
just endless grey.

Hunger no longer frightens me.
It is a language my body understands.
Sorrow no longer surprises me.
It sleeps beside me each night.
I have grown familiar
with empty cupboards
and heavy thoughts.

Poverty has become
my comfort zone.
Its rough edges no longer cut,
They shape me.
Its silence no longer echoes,
It settles.
This is the ground I stand on.
This is the air I breathe.

This is how I live,
between need and endurance,
between wanting and accepting,
between breaking
and somehow continuing.

And yet,
buried deep beneath the numbness,
There is something small
that refuses to die.

A quiet hope.

Not loud.
Not certain.
Just a whisper that maybe,
one day,
a miracle will find its way to me.

Maybe the grey will crack.
Maybe color will return.

Until then,
I survive.
And I wait.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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