The Pain I Feel Inside
There are shadows beneath my skin,
silent earthquakes no one sees.
I carry them like stones
pressed deep against my chest,
their weight too heavy for air,
too sharp for sleep.
The world moves, smiling,
while I stumble in silence—
my laughter a thin disguise,
my words a cracked vessel
pouring nothing but echoes.
Each breath feels borrowed,
each step, a fragile prayer.
The mirror knows me better
than the people I pass by—
it holds the fragments of my sorrow,
the storms I cannot name.
If I could tear open the veil
and show the wounds that bloom inside,
perhaps the night would understand,
perhaps the stars would weep with me.
But until then, I remain—
a vessel of hidden cries,
a song with broken chords,
a heart still beating,
aching for light.
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