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...
This feeling, so heavy it bends my breath, sits on my chest like a silent storm no one else can hear. I feel less human here, less than the voice I carry, less than the space I take, like I am fading in a place I once called home. Home… yet it does not hold me. Walls stand, But warmth is missing. The treatment, so sour, like biting into raw lemons, sharp, stinging, lingering long after the moment has passed. Every word, every glance, cuts quietly, not enough to be seen, but enough to be felt deep within. Oh God, Where are You? In this noise of silence, in this crowd where I stand alone, Do you hear me? I feel left out, like a shadow misplaced, like the black sheep in a field that refuses to know me. I try, I wake, I breathe, I endure, holding onto hope like a fragile thread that could break at any moment. Life grows heavier each day, Yet I carry it still, because somewhere in me a whisper refuses to die: Maybe tomorrow will be kinder. Oh God, If you are listening, Find me here, in this...