A Girl Who Learns to Carry

She wakes to rooms that echo cold, No gentle how are you, no hands to hold. Love at home is a locked-up door, Her name is spoken, but nothing more. In mirrors, her eyes ask questions deep, Why must the strong be the ones who weep? Her heart once trusted, once believed, But promises cracked, and love deceived. In his silence, she learned to fall, In half-said words, she lost it all. A relationship that bled her slow, Smiles hiding storms no one would know. At office desks, beneath harsh light, Whispers chase her day and night. Laughter sharp, disguised as fun, Pointing fingers—see, she’s the one. They mock her calm, her quiet grace, Judge her pauses, her tired face. Not knowing battles she fights alone, Or how heavy her silence has grown. By evening, sadness sits beside, A constant friend she cannot hide. Tears speak truths she never says, Of endless nights and aching days. Yet somewhere deep, beneath the ache, A fire still refuses to break. For even unloved, unheard, unseen, She survives—bruised, but still serene. One day, the world will learn her worth, Not from her pain, but from her rebirth. For the girl who cried in quiet ways, Will rise… and outgrow these broken days.