In the quiet corners of my dying soul,
I harbor words unsaid, a hidden toll.
For their happiness, I swallow my cries,
A sacrifice made beneath silent skies.

I wear a cloak of understanding grace,
Yet they scold me, blind to my inner space.
"Heartless," they label me, unaware,
Of the tempests raging, the burdens I bear.

I'd give my breath, my very pulse,
To shield them from storms, to soften the jolts.
Yet they call me heartless, a cruel refrain,
Unaware of the love that fuels my pain.

Who will tell them? Who will unveil
The depths of my devotion, the silent travail?
For in this quiet sacrifice, I find my worth,
A love that transcends the bounds of this earth.

And now, broken and bruised, I stand tall,
For I've danced with despair, felt its bitter squall.
I won't seek your empathy or pity's embrace,
My strength lies in knowing pain's lonely space.

To you all, I say I've walked that dark mile,
Where hope flickers faint, and tears reconcile.
So judge me heartless if you must, my dear,
But my love remains steadfast, crystal clear.


Remember, whoever is reading this, your heart is a treasure, even if others fail to see it. And I say that you're the treasure as well and am happy that you're still striving to survive... okay? ✨

© bearwolf101