“Silent Strength”

They speak of me like they know my name, As if my story is theirs to claim. Pointing fingers with borrowed light, While hiding their own truths out of sight. They laugh aloud, they judge with ease, Turning whispers into a disease. Calling it humor, calling it fun, While wounds are made where none had begun. They ask for kindness, they expect my care, Yet forget the storms they left me to bear. Still I stood, though bruised inside, Learning slowly how to hide. Not every voice deserves a reply, Not every tear needs a “why.” Silence, sometimes, is power untold, A quiet strength, steady and bold. Let them speak, let them pretend, Their words don’t shape the truth I defend. For deep within, I clearly see— Their noise is not the end of me.