The Echo Beneath My Skin

There’s a quiet war inside of me,

That no one stops to see.

A thousand screams beneath a smile,

A storm disguised as peace and style.

The daylight burns my brittle hope,

At night I find the strength to cope.

Each thought a thread, both dark and thin,

Weaving pain beneath my skin.

They ask me why I’m always tired,

Why I don’t feel what’s “so inspired.”

But healing isn’t painted gold,

It’s finding warmth when nights are cold.

The mirror shows what’s left unseen,

The cracks that whisper where I’ve been.

And still, I breathe though barely whole,

A fragile heart, a fighting soul.

So if my silence seems too loud,

Just know I’m lost among the crowd.

Not broken just not yet renewed,

Still learning how to be subdued.