Some days I wear my smile
like armor made of glass
fragile at the edges,
but enough to let me pass.

My mind’s a crowded station,
trains of thought collide and bend.
I try to map the silence,
but the static never ends.

Anxiety’s a whisper
that turns into a scream,
telling me I’m sinking,
even when I dream.

Depression's not just sadness
it’s numb behind the eyes,
it’s staring at the ceiling
as another sunrise dies.

I fake the laughs in daylight,
I vanish in the night,
and every little victory
still barely feels like fight.

I’ve heard "you’re not alone"
from mouths that never knew
what it’s like to lose yourself
while standing in a room.

But still, I wake each morning
a breath, a step, a chance.
Even when my demons
try to drag me from the dance.

So if you feel you're breaking,
just know you're not the fault.
You're not weak for being wounded,
you're just human through it all.