Her pain never enough

The Weight of Her Hurting

She lay, broken, in shadows dim,

Thoughts tangled in pain, too heavy to swim.

Her body ached, her spirit wore thin,

She thought of the end as a comfort within.

He called her lazy, weak, and slow,

While her scars told stories he’d never know.

“Just try harder,” he’d say with a sigh,

Blind to the battles that drained her dry.

For him, she rose with shaking hands,

Pushed through the hurt, met his demands,

But the more she gave, the more she bled,

As pieces of her fell silent, dead.

Her pain was real, though he couldn’t see,

Or perhaps he chose his cruelty free.

She wore the weight of his cold disdain,

Torn between love and relentless pain.

In darkness, she whispered, her heart sinking low,

“If I vanish, will he even know?”

A flicker of strength, a whisper thin,

A seed of hope deep within.

One day, she’d rise, soft but fierce,

Let go of his words that bite and pierce.

For in the quiet, she’d find her way,

And heal the wounds that begged her to stay.