Never Enough

I wake up heavy, hollow-eyed, a war inside I cannot hide. My chest is full of aching glass, each breath I take, a splintered gasp. I try to speak, but words betray— they twist my truth, then slip away. They say, “Just love yourself, be kind.” But how do you hug what you can’t find? I look for worth in others’ eyes, but all I see are blurred goodbyes. I give too much, I break, I bend, and wonder why I’m not the end they choose to stay for, hold, defend— I’m always just the in-between. I wear a mask too thick to peel, a smile that lies, “I’m fine, I heal.” But I’m unraveling at the seams, a stitched-up soul with silent screams. I scream in silence every night, a voice that knows it has no right. To need, to want, to just exist without conditions, without lists. How do you love a heart so torn? How do you hold what self has scorned? I search for proof I’m more than pain, but all I find is rust and rain. Still… I wake. I rise. I try. I walk beneath a darkened sky and hope, just maybe, if I stay— I’ll learn to love a piece someday.