Negative People
A Weight invisible — yet sure —
Rests gently on the Bone —
It does not bruise the outward Form
But claims the Heart — for Stone —
We wake — beneath its quiet rule —
And dress in borrowed Cheer —
While underneath — a fissured World
Leaks doubt from year to year —
The Smile — a courteous Disguise —
The Step — a practiced Art —
But midnight finds the truer pulse
Confessing in the Dark —
Still — somewhere in the Splintered Soul
A stubborn Seed is sown —
It pushes through the ruin’s floor
And splits the Crushing — Stone —
For Hope — though small — outlives the Weight —
And breathes where none can see —
A fragile, wild Defiance
Of what we’re told must be.
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