"The Unseen Thread"

They say silence is golden—

But I’ve watched it rust in too many mouths.

Truth doesn’t always shout.

Sometimes, it just refuses to look away.

I've carried clocks in my chest,

Ticking down chances I never had the courage to hold.

You see—time doesn't always run out.

Sometimes, it walks past, unnoticed,

Wearing a face that looked too familiar to trust.

I’ve written letters I never sent,

Burnt bridges that didn’t even lead anywhere.

Somewhere between fear and freedom

I learned:

Healing isn’t always loud.

Sometimes, it looks like eating alone and not hating it.

Hope has a strange accent—

Hard to understand at first,

But it speaks your name

Exactly the way you needed it pronounced.

Pride taught me this:

Even angels have broken wings

But they still show up to work.

And humility?

That’s just knowing the universe owes you nothing

And loving it anyway.

I don’t pray for peace anymore—

I plant it.

Tiny seeds in restless minds,

Where doubt is fertile, and love is a weed

That refuses to die.

We all carry ghosts—

Not the scary kind,

Just memories that refuse to change clothes

Even after all these years.

But I’ve stopped mourning futures I’ll never meet.

Now I build tiny altars in my spine

For the courage to keep showing up,

Even when no one claps.

Because art is breath.

And life, despite the edits,

Is still a first draft worth reading out loud.