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I carried stones inside my chest,
Each one a name I could not speak.
They built a wall beneath my breast,
A fortress made of worn-out ache.

I carried rivers in my veins,
The floods of all I held too long.
They carved their maps through years of strain,
A quiet, slow, unspoken song.

I carried winters in my bones,
The weight of every frozen day.
I learned to sit with buried tones,
To breathe when everything was grey.

I carried shadows in my spine,
The silhouettes of what I lost.
I made their whispers into mine,
I bore their cold, I paid their cost.

I carried echoes in my skin,
Of hands that touched and then withdrew.
The ghosts of all I'd never win
Still burned like dawn’s unfinished blue.

I carried silence in my breath,
The quiet years that left no trace.
I let them settle, soft as death,
And still I wore them like a grace.

I carried gardens in my scars,
The roots of pain that bloomed instead.
I found the stars behind the bars,
I found the light in what was dead.

I carried flight within the fall,
The broken wings, the fractured sky.
I learned to rise despite it all,
To find the how without the why.

I carried storms that never stayed,
I carried suns that never shone.
And every time I knelt and prayed,
I stood again, remade, alone.

I carried weight until one day,
The weight became the wind, the air.
And in the breaking, I obeyed—
The weight that taught me how to bear.

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