They call it sadness
as if it’s gentle.
As if it doesn’t claw its way
through ribs at 3AM,
leaving bite marks on your will to live.
I smiled yesterday
the kind of smile
you give when you’re drowning
and no one sees the water.
I said “I’m fine”
because breaking down takes too much energy.
I carry silence like a second skin,
peeling pieces of myself
just to feel something.
Even the mirror flinches now.
Some nights I pray,
not for peace,
but for emptiness
because even pain
is too heavy to hold forever.
But I’m still here.
Barely breathing,
brutally honest,
and that has to count
for something.
May 12, 2025
May 12, 2025 at 3:59 PM UTC
They call it sadness
as if it’s gentle.
As if it doesn’t claw its way
through ribs at 3AM,
leaving bite marks on your will to live.
I smiled yesterday
the kind of smile
you give when you’re drowning
and no one sees the water.
I said “I’m fine”
because breaking down takes too much energy.
I carry silence like a second skin,
peeling pieces of myself
just to feel something.
Even the mirror flinches now.
Some nights I pray,
not for peace,
but for emptiness
because even pain
is too heavy to hold forever.
But I’m still here.
Barely breathing,
brutally honest,
and that has to count
for something.