Borrowed Sorrow

I feel it first in my chest, A weight that does not belong to me, A silent echo of someone else’s pain, Pressing heavy in my throat. Tears gather like uninvited rain, Each droplet a borrowed sorrow, My own heartbeat stumbles, As if learning grief for the first time. Even from screens, even from ink, Even from shadows and voices, I carry their hurt like a fragile flame, Flickering, trembling, yet refusing to die. I am both witness and vessel, The world’s pain settling in my bones, And still, I keep breathing, Learning how to hold both theirs and mine.