Some things in life we carry,
Not because we care,
But because we must.
Like faded promises,
And roles we never asked for—
They cling to our spine,
Etching silence into our skin.

Not every burden is born of love.
Some are stitched with duty,
Unseen, unpraised,
Yet always there—
A shadow in the light,
A name we answer to,
Even when our heart stays silent.

We don't resent it.
But we don't cherish it either.
We simply carry.
Because someone must.