Unseen Wounds

I am the wound you try to hide —

Not because I am small, but because I am enormous.

I am the scream trapped beneath a smile,

The bitter taste on your tongue that no water can wash away.

I am the weight that crushes your chest at midnight,

The tremor in your hands when the world feels too cruel to face.

I am the ache that steals your voice,

The shadow that clings to your every step.

I do not soften with time.

I do not quietly fade away.

I flare, I burn, I bleed in silence.

I am the knot in your throat,

The cold sweat of dread before the phone rings,

The memory that twists like a knife in your gut.

I am the loneliness in a crowded room,

The cold that no blanket can warm.

I am the endless loop of what-ifs and whys,

The poison running through your veins disguised as hope.

But I am not your end.

I am the fracture in your soul that lets the light in,

The darkness that forces you to look up,

The breaking point before the breakthrough.

Hold me — if only for a moment.

Look into the depth of me and see what lies beneath:

Not just pain, but the seed of resurrection,

Not just loss, but the path to reclaiming your breath.

I am the pain.

But I am also the pulse of your survival.