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...
“Little psycho”
that’s the name you gave me,
wrapped in laughter,
served with a smile you thought convincing.
You said it like you had read me,
like you had mapped the pulse beneath my skin,
like my silence was madness
instead of measurement.
You read my energy wrong.
You danced in counterfeit joy,
acting light, acting harmless,
trying to tilt the board
before I even chose my side.
You thought I didn’t see the strategy
behind your grin.
Little did you know,
I am quiet,
but I am wise.
I don’t just enter games,
I study them.
While you celebrated your imaginary victory,
I was arranging pieces.
Not loudly.
Not hurriedly.
Just precisely.
You mistook my stillness for weakness.
You mistook my patience for confusion.
But I was never lost,
I was calculating.
And in return,
I made you a pawn
in a chess game you didn’t know
you were playing.
One small move,
and suddenly
your laughter shifted.
One silent decision,
and the board changed.
How does it feel
to be outplayed
by the “little psycho”?
Life, hey,
that’s it.
Sometimes the loudest player
isn’t the strongest.
Sometimes the quiet one
is already three moves ahead.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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