They called me nothing, like I don’t matter, Laughed at my quiet, my broken chatter. But they never knew what I hold inside, The pain I carry, the tears I’ve tried to hide.
I don’t wear my hurt as a badge or sign, But it's there when the world’s unkind. Every scar is a mark of fight, Proof I’m still here, even in the night.
So don’t judge me by what you see, These wounds, they’re real—but they’re part of me. I might fall, but I’ll stand my ground, With unfaded wounds, my strength is found.
Some days I break in silence so loud, Smiling while sinking beneath the crowd. But even in pieces, I try to rise— Hiding my wars behind steady eyes.