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...
When you drape deceit upon my name,
do not expect me to wilt like a wounded flower.
I am not fragile porcelain
set upon the shelf of your amusement.
I am flint against steel,
And your trickery is the spark
you never learned to fear.
You thought your are clever,
weaving velvet lies with a silver tongue,
masking intent behind honeyed breath.
But I taste falsehood
the way wolves taste blood in winter air.
Understand this,
My stillness is not surrender.
It is a calculation.
It is the ocean before the tempest,
the hush before cathedrals collapse.
When I react,
it is not noise,
It is reckoning.
I do not scatter madness blindly;
I distill it.
I refine it into something precise,
a blade forged in the furnace of betrayal.
You call it fury,
I call it balance restored.
For when someone dares
to outwit my patience,
to gamble with my trust,
they awaken something ancient,
a law older than pride:
Karma.
And I,
I become its instrument.
Not cruel without cause,
not wrathful without wound,
but inevitable.
So tread lightly
with your clever disguises.
For when you fool me,
You do not break me,
You summon the part of me
that does not tremble,
does not retreat,
Do not forget.
You summon the storm
That answers deception
with thunder.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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