The Light of a Still-Healing Child

I built a world out of pillow forts,

Lights off, just me and the dark.

Whispers float down the hallway door,

But I learned to quiet my heart.

Cracks in the ceiling, I counted them all,

Hoping someone might call my name.

But silence became my curtain call—

I got good at hiding the pain.

And I held it all together,

Like tape on broken wings.

Smiled like it was nothing,

While I carried everything.

A child in grown-up weather,

Wishing someone saw me there…

But I stitched the seams of every dream

Just to prove that I still cared.

Used to wish I’d fade like the light,

Not gone—just never been.

Not for pain or endless night,

Just to save them from the me within.

I’d talk to the moon through the window pane,

Told her secrets no one knew.

She listened without any blame,

And cried her light into my room.

If I could rewrite the story,

I’d leave stars where my name should be.

No trace, no weight, no memory,

Just peace in the places I’d never be.

And I held it all together,

Like tape on broken wings.

Smiled like it was nothing,

While I carried everything.

Still searching for my own voice,

In echoes I’ve left behind…

But I learned to be gentle with others,

And never fail to be kind.

Maybe the moon was enough back then,

A silent friend when nights grew wild.

Now I carry her glow in my chest—

The light of a still-healing child.