Borrowed Days

Each morning
I wake
like a thief.
Another day
in my hands
one I thought
might not come.

I walk quietly
through borrowed time.
Wearing the weight
of all the yesterdays
that almost
took me.

People say
I'm strong.
But strength
is just
what’s left
after the breaking.

I don't laugh
for joy.
I laugh
so no one asks.
I cry
when the world sleeps
and no one watches.

I carry
a thousand words
unsaid.
Each one
a stone
in my chest.

Some days
I wonder
if I’m really here.
Or just
pretending
so others
don’t worry.

This life?
It’s a silent war
with no medals.
No parades.
Just breath.
And more breath.
Until one day
there isn’t.