The Weight. — Poem

I wake to a silence louder than screams,

A room full of shadows, unraveling dreams.

The morning light creeps like guilt on the floor,

But I can’t find the strength to reach for the door.

My thoughts are a maze with no way out,

Each step forward wrapped in doubt.

Smiles feel foreign, laughter a lie,

I carry the ache and don’t know why.

People speak, but their words fall through,

Like rain on glass I’m staring into.

They say, “It gets better,” “You’re not alone,”

But pain has a way of making its home.

Sleep is escape, yet never rest,

Hope is a bird that avoids my chest.

I wear my mask like a second skin,

Hiding the war I fight within.

Still, I write. Still, I breathe.

A quiet resistance I barely believe.

And though the darkness knows my name,

A part of me still fights the flame.