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...
Take it easy on yourself,
not everything needs fixing tonight,
Not every thought deserves a trial
in the courtroom of your mind.
You don’t have to chase every worry
down its endless hallway,
don’t have to answer every doubt
That knocks like it owns the place.
Let it pass.
Let it be noise, not truth.
Take it easy on yourself,
You are not the voice
that rushes in with criticism,
not the one that twists small moments
into heavy meanings.
You are the one who notices,
who pauses,
Who can choose
not to follow.
No judgment today.
No measuring your worth
against yesterday’s version of you,
or tomorrow’s expectations
that haven’t even arrived.
Just this moment,
uncomplicated,
unexamined,
enough.
Take it easy on yourself,
It’s okay to move slowly,
to not have answers,
to sit with uncertainty
without turning it into something sharp.
You don’t need to solve everything
to be okay.
You already are.
And those thoughts,
the loud ones, the restless ones,
they don’t need to be fought,
don’t need to be silenced
like enemies at the gate.
Let them come.
Let them go.
Like clouds
that were never meant
to stay.
Take it easy on yourself,
You are allowed to exist
without explanation,
without perfection,
without carrying the weight
of every imagined mistake.
There is nothing to prove here.
Nothing to defend.
Just breathe.
Just be.
And for once,
be gentle
with the only place you have,
You truly live:
for yourself.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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