Where No One Knocks

I built a place
where no one knocks.

No doorbell.
No footsteps.
No voices
that ask,
“Are you okay?”

It’s quiet
but not peaceful.

More like
forgotten.

I sit
with my thoughts.

Not because I want to
but because
they don’t leave.

They circle
like flies
on a wound
that never heals.

I try
to distract myself.

Phone.
Music.
Noise.

But silence
always wins.

People say
“Come out.”

But how do you leave
a room
that only exists
inside you?

A room
with no map.

A room
made of
secrets,
shame,
and stories
I never told.

So I stay.

Not because it’s safe
but because
it’s known.

And sometimes
known pain
hurts less
than unknown light.