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...
I was born for more, not to shrink into corners of silence, not to fade beneath the weight of ordinary days, not to exist as something half-lit, In a world asking for brilliance. There is something in me that refuses to settle, something restless and awake even when I try to rest. I was born for more than quiet hesitation, more than doubting my own hands as if they were not built to create, to shape, to move. Inside me lives a voice that does not whisper smallness, It calls for expansion, for color, for meaning that spills beyond me into everything I touch. I was born for more than watching life pass by like a distant window I never open. I was meant to open it, to step through it, to let the world feel my presence without apology. There is skill in me, not waiting to be discovered, but waiting to be unleashed. Like rivers held too long in stone, like fire kept too long in still air. I was born for creation, for shaping what did not exist before me, for turning thoughts into form,...