She struggles each morning to get out of bed,
constantly consumed by the thoughts in her head.
The sadness stays with her as if it's a stain,
but she won't let anyone know she's in pain.
So she broke down, can't find the courage to smile.
And the world will call her fragile.
He's placed under pressures that kill him inside,
but he's been taught that emotions are something to hide.
So he learned to keep quiet about all of his issues,
as this child was scolded when reaching for tissues.
So he cries into his hands every once in a while.
And the world will call him fragile.
They say we're becoming too soft as if it's an insult.
But if we don't take care of eachother then what's the end result?
We get so caught up in the fear of our own vulnerability,
we tend to forget it's our strongest utility.
And maybe I'm just way too damn gentle,
but you've got to think we're missing out on not being sentimental.
So why is this hatred for expression something we inherent?
When people are most beautiful, fully transparent.
And what makes me even sadder,
is that we convince people they're glass, and then ask why they shatter.
I don't understand how outward expression has become mistakable,
for the aspects that make one considered easily breakable.
For we were made for breaking, for healing,
For hurting, for loving,
For living, for feeling.
So if bleeding on paper isn't really your style.
Forgive me, for being fragile.
YOU ARE READING
What We Wouldn't Say Aloud
PoetryAnd it's in these moments, when all we can do is feel that one begins to whisper words into paper.
