The greatest betrayal?

When the positivity-giver isn’t so
positive themselves. When the light
they hand out doesn’t reach their
own shadow.

Belief in self-worth— they say it’s
your shell. But I haven’t found the
pearl that fits my shape.

Still liquid—I form myself to every
room, shape my smile to fit their
forecast. These tears? Not weakness.
Just soil erosion.

Washing away what held me—
leaving me bare, unready for tomorrow’s
weight. Like the trampled flower—
I’m not phased. I remember the feet
that pressed me into the same ground
I bloomed from.

I haven’t forgotten all those soles
that stepped on my feat.