The "Things You Can't Say Out Loud"

My heart screams but my lips remain sealed

For mother once taught me: strength lies in concealed.

Bad times shall pass, she softly would say,

And a woman who unveils her pain loses her way.

A husband, a father, a brother they all bear names,

But offer no honor, no care, just silent blame.

No hand for healing, no cloth for wear,

My needs are mine alone—do they even care?

Without his permission, I can't make a move,

Even breathing too deeply might disapprove.

If I eat burnt bread, I say not a word,

And save the soft one for him love unheard.

I can’t ask again if he’d like a bite,

For fear his answer might crush me outright.

If a guest steps in, I only say “yes,”

Dare not go beyond lest I invite distress.

I hold a job, a government post with pride,

Yet even my paycheck is from me denied.

My money serves others, their comforts it feeds,

But no trace of thanks not even for deeds.

I can’t stop them from draining my pay,

Nor scream that I, too, have dreams gone astray.

Forty years old, yet raised by a father’s coin,

Still living off him, while pride they purloin.

They speak of honor, of men and of might,

Yet fail their own blind to my plight.

And I hold it all in this ache, this despair,

For to speak the truth is too much to bear.

So my heart bleeds tears that never fall down,

A silent scream wrapped in an invisible gown.

This is not weakness this is what they call grace,

A woman’s pain hidden, with no one to face.