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The Pain Only You Can Feel #sadpoetry #inspirationalpoetry #creativewriting

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...

The Harvest of Your Laziness #sadpoetry #poem #freeverse

It wasn’t real,
that connection you held up
like something rare.
It was only your restless emptiness
reaching outward,
never inward where truth lived.

There was something in you,
a rare kind of wrongness,
not loud, but steady,
growing in the quiet corners
You refused to clean.

Your habits sank deep,
roots of neglect and excuse,
feeding on your comfort,
tightening around any chance
of becoming better.

Inside your chest,
something lingered,
not wounded,
but slowly rotting
from everything you chose not to face.

Your words carried weight,
but not wisdom,
dirty with judgment,
falling on others
as if they owed you effort
You would never give yourself.

You dreamed wildly,
expected greatly,
Yet moved nowhere.
Laziness sat in you like spring,
fresh, alive,
growing stronger each day
You chose not to change.

And so you became
a tree,

Not shaped by storms,
but by stillness.
Not broken,
but unused.

A tree that stands alone,
roots deep in wasted time,
branches stretched with empty wants,
leaves green with excuses.

Alive,
but only in appearance.


© 2026 Gloria Penelope

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