The Shape of pain
Pain wears many faces.
Sometimes it is silence,
sometimes a smile stitched over a wound.
It builds homes inside us,
furnishes them with memories we never asked for.
It teaches us to breathe through fire,
to carry storms in our chest
and call it survival.
Pain is the sculptor —
chiseling us into strangers,
yet somehow more human.
We learn to love the ache,
because it proves we are alive.
And when the storm finally breaks,
pain whispers —
I was your shadow,
but you were the light.
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