Between the Bells and Walls

They say, “Do your best,” with a smile so wide, But don’t see the storm we carry inside. At school we’re numbers, marks, and lines, A silent race, no room to unwind. Eyes on the grade, not on the face, No time to pause, no breathing space. Mistakes feel final, pressure tight— Even the brightest days feel like night. Then home is not always rest and peace, It’s chores and rules that never cease. “Why didn’t you get an A this time?” As if we failed some holy sign. We juggle books and moods and tears, While drowning slowly in quiet fears. Expected to be strong, mature, and fast, But no one asks, “How long can you last?” We smile, we nod, we carry the weight, We show up early, we stay up late. But sometimes we wish they’d truly see— There’s a tired soul beneath this “we.” Still we push, we try, we strive, Because we want more than just survive. But maybe one day they’ll understand That even warriors need a hand.