Puroja Bhattacharya Poet Couplet

Unfinished

I walk the line where halos fade to dust,
Not damned, not saved, just learning how to trust.
A courage sewn from silence, stitched with fear,
The kind that shakes, yet shows up, still sincere.

Not fragile glass that shatters at a touch,
Not hardened steel that never bends as much.
I learn my shape through fractures small and slow,
By breaking gently, I let myself grow.

I am not what their waiting hoped to see,
Nor the ruin whispered quietly at me.
Just trying to rise without the weight of shame,
Without mistaking guilt for my true name.

I fight my wars where no one claps or knows,
In rooms where doubt whispers first, then it grows.
And there I learn that strength can sometimes be
The act of kneeling to my own unease.

Each dream I miss becomes a mark I keep,
Not carved in flesh, but etched where hopes run deep.
Still forward I move, unsure of where or why,
Only certain that I will not lie down and die.

I am becoming, slowly, uneven, real,
With mercy taught by wounds that had to heal.
I punish less, forgive a little more,
With every wrong turn opening a door.

I do not vow to conquer what I hide,
Nor silence every shadow tucked inside.
I only promise this, and nothing grand:
To walk beside myself, and finally stand.

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