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...
It was never easy, not a path adorned with mercy, nor softened by the kindness of fate. It was a road carved in stone, unyielding beneath trembling feet, where each step demanded a fragment of my strength. Hardships did not arrive gently, they came like relentless tides, crashing against the fragile shores of all I thought I was. They spoke in storms, in sleepless nights, in burdens that settled deep within the marrow of my being. Life, once tender in its promise, turned bitter upon my tongue, a taste I could not escape, sharp, lingering, unforgiving in its presence. Days unraveled into struggles, stitched together with exhaustion, while nights became long corridors of wandering thoughts, echoes of doubt that refused to be quiet. There were moments I felt myself dissolving, becoming less than whole, less than certain, as if existence itself had forgotten my name. I bent beneath the weight, I faltered in silent corners, I carried storms No eyes could see. And still, something within me ...