#cryinginsilence
I wake before the sun,
and it feels like the world forgot to ask if I slept.
My bones sing songs of labor,
aching hymns to bills and survival,
while my heart hums a softer tune
one I barely remember the words to.
Two jobs, two faces.
One I wear for the world, painted with tired smiles
and “I’m okay”s that sound convincing enough.
The other one,the real one
I leave on my pillow each night,
staring at the ceiling,
wondering when the light will come back inside me.
I laugh sometimes,
but the laughter feels rented,
borrowed from a version of me who used to feel joy.
And when I’m alone,
it’s like the silence knows my name.
The tears come easy,
falling without permission,
like they’ve been waiting their turn.
I tell myself not to break,
because the bills don’t stop for broken people.
Rent doesn’t care about exhaustion.
And the world…
the world just keeps spinning,
as if my tired hands aren’t the ones keeping it steady.
I want love
not the kind that fades when it gets hard,
but the kind that stays,
that listens when words run out,
that doesn’t mistake my strength for being unbreakable.
I want someone who sees me,
not just the version of me I perform to survive.
But trust…
trust feels like walking barefoot over glass.
I’ve given chances to hearts with sharp edges,
and I’ve bled enough to know
not everyone means it when they say “I care.”
Still
I try.
Because something in me refuses to let hope die,
even when it feels like I already have.
Some nights, I dream of leaving.
Not dying
just disappearing.
A quiet vanishing act into someplace where the noise stops,
where I can breathe without guilt,
where my body and my mind can finally rest.
A place where I don’t have to be “strong” just to exist.
And yet…
each morning,
I rise again.
I get dressed in my courage,
tie my faith around my tired heart,
and face another day that asks for more than I have to give.
Because deep down, I think
maybe there’s still a reason.
Maybe there’s a light hidden beneath all this pain.
They say time heals all wounds,
but time alone just watches.
Healing… healing is what happens
when the broken pieces of you decide to keep breathing anyway.
And that’s what I do ....breathe.
Even when it hurts.
Even when I feel invisible.
Even when I doubt if anyone would notice if I disappeared.
I’m still here.
Not because it’s easy.
Not because I’m fearless.
But because somewhere inside this tired soul,
there’s a whisper that refuses to fade:
You still matter.
You’re still worthy.
You’re still here.
And maybe
just maybe
that’s the start of becoming whole again.
#HealingInProgress#CryingInSilence
#PoetryOfTheSoul#PainToPoetry
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 4:56 PM UTC
_Reflective tears_— but none fall.
Glass-stained eyes, holding back
a flood that forgot how to break.
The walls pit inward— tightening
like regret, closing in like the hole
in my heart.
Hurt me again— my mind almost
begs for it; not for the pain—but
for the proof I still feel.
Cracked knuckles answer what
cracked thoughts can't say.
A fractured mental frame
held together by restraint.
I want to cry, but as I reach for the
memory of it, the tears don’t come—
Just the hollow ache of forgetting
how to let go in that way.
_It be like that some days..._
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 4:27 AM UTC