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Weight on my chest. Doesn’t know my name.

Wakes up before me. Watches me break.

I smile anyway. Bandage on a fracture.

Close up? Everything cracks.

Told to stand. Told to move.

Never told how to feel, how to bleed inside.

So I hoard it. Lies. Silence. Shadows in my pockets.

Sometimes I want to throw it all down.

Expectations, roles, fake me.

Just stand bare. No reasons. No manual.

I write.

I spit my pain.

Black on white. No shadows.

Not victory. Survival.

Pain doesn’t scream. Pain seeps.

Creeps in cracks. Between thoughts. Between heartbeats.

Nobody sees it. I feel it.

Tired of being strong. Tired of explaining storms

in polite sentences. Some pains don’t want polish.

Sometimes I want to throw it all down.

Expectations, roles, fake me.

Just stand bare. No reasons. No manual.

I write.

I spit my pain.

Black on white. No shadows.

Not victory. Survival.

Tomorrow? Still hurts.

Tonight? At least it’s not inside me.