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...
My mind became a crowded room
filled with unfinished thoughts,
imaginary conversations,
old memories,
future fears,
and questions that I never learned how to sleep.
Every small problem
grew sharp teeth at midnight.
Every silence sounded dangerous.
Every mistake replayed itself
like a song my mind refused to stop singing.
I became tired
in ways sleep could not fix.
Overthinking is strange like that.
It makes people fight storms
that have not even arrived.
It convinces the heart
to carry tomorrow’s pain
before tomorrow even begins.
So one day,
I stopped trying to solve
every single thought.
I opened the window.
I let the air touch my skin.
I drank cold water slowly.
I walked outside without rushing.
I allowed the world to exist
without analyzing every part of it.
And for the first time in a long while,
I realized peace is not always loud.
Sometimes peace is simply
a quiet moment
where the mind loosens its grip on fear.
Healing did not happen instantly.
The thoughts still return sometimes.
But now I know
I do not have to follow every thought
just because it enters my mind.
Some thoughts are only passing clouds,
not permanent storms.
So now, when my mind becomes too loud,
I breathe deeper.
I rest.
I let some thoughts go unfinished.
Because I am learning
that escaping overthinking it
is not about controlling every thought.
It is about finally learning
Which thoughts deserve my peace
and which ones never did.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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