Eyes blur over words,
tasks pile like silent judgments-
why can't I keep up?

Every day I try,
but the mountain has never moved.
why can't I be stronger?

Reports inked in red bleed,
proof of how I've let them down-
and myself again.

Tired to the bone,
even rest won't hold me now.
I'm just...drifting off.

Same roads, same old steps-
life loops in gray repetition.
I forget to breathe.

School, then noise, then more-
life stacks struggle like heavy books.
No one but me seems to bend.

I get home and sit,
just to feel the ache settle.
Crying is my break.

Behind my closed door,
the world finally lets go.
Here, I'm just...myself.

No masks in this space-
just the quiet hum of me,
and the weight I shed.

Everything seems to hurt at once-
to falter beneath my feet.
I want stable ground.

Not all pain is loud.
Not all struggle leaves a mark.
Some of us wander astray.
not broken beyond repair,
just worn down.

Some wounds wear no scars-
they bloom silently, deep inside.
where no eyes can reach.

Erosion taking time-
silent, steady, unnoticed,
gradually-things vanish.
And I often feel myself fading,
in the smallest, softest ways.

These words, these lines,
are not cries for rescue,
but quiet pleas to breathe.

I know i'm not broken,
simply a person-
someone who's learning
how to exist under the pressure,
even if I don't have the answers yet.

I am more than these battles,
more than the crimson ink scars on paper.
I am the silence between the words,
the moments when I let myself just be.

Maybe one day,
I'll find the strength,
to grow into myself,
to let the world see-

How much I've carried,
how far I've come,
even when it felt like I was barely moving.