People Don’t Notice Tired Eyes

We show up.
Every day.

Same place.
Same pain.

Nobody asks
“How’s your soul?”

Only
“Did you finish it?”

The world wants
results.

Not reasons.
Not weight.

We work
through sickness.

Through heartbreak.
Through fear.

Because stopping
is dangerous.

Stopping means
falling behind.

So we move.
And smile.

Even when
we’re breaking.

People see
your delay.

Not your damage.
Not your night.

Only the deadline.
Only the silence.

We walk
with tired eyes.

But no one
notices.

Until we
mess up.

Then they say
“What happened to you?”

As if
they didn’t see

all the days
we barely held on.

We write
in notebooks.

Late.
Alone.

Trying to stay
ourselves.

Trying to keep
from vanishing.

We cry
quietly.

Because loud pain
is too much

for people
who only care

when it’s
too late.

Still
we try.

Still
we show up.

Even when
the heart says no.

Because that’s
what life demands.

And we
are tired.

But not
done.

Not yet.