Mercy came knocking once, a pale wanderer draped in dawn, with weary eyes and gentle hands, carrying no sword, only the burden of understanding. But the wicked knew not her face. Their hearts were citadels of stone, where compassion died unnamed and every wound became a weapon. They barred the gates. For mercy is a stranger in the hearts of the wicked. She walks their halls unseen, a ghost among shadows, whispering of forgiveness to ears that worship vengeance. They drink from poisoned wells and call bitterness wisdom. They sharpen grief into blades and wear cruelty like a crown. Where mercy offers a bridge, they build a wall. Where mercy kneels, they strike. And so she leaves quietly, taking her light with her, while darkness settles deeper into chambers already cold. The wicked do not fear mercy, they fear what mercy reveals: that beneath their iron masks, beneath their kingdoms of pride, beneath the ruins they call strength, there lives a trembling truth they dare not face. For merc...
It is inside my thoughts
that I have hidden you,
a silent chamber
where your name still lingers
like perfume on forgotten air.
You left your mark upon my heart,
not lightly,
not gently,
but deep enough to become
a wound that refuses mercy.
A scar that does not close,
because love once lived there,
and it lived fiercely.
Life moves forward.
It does not pause for broken things.
Morning still rises,
streets still fill with strangers,
laughter still finds its way to my lips.
Yet beneath it all,
There is an ache
That time has failed to silence.
Memories keep digging,
relentless,
uninvited.
They unearth your voice,
your touch,
the warmth we once called forever.
They replay what was
as though it never truly ended.
And though we walked away,
though distance claimed what love once held,
you remain.
Not in my hands,
But in my mind.
An echo that stays awake,
a presence that does not fade,
a memory still alive
in the quiet corners of my thoughts.
For love may have passed,
and seasons may have changed,
but you,
you remain
where I keep you most,
within the endless whisper
of my mind.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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