They called it strength, I called it surviving.
I smiled through pain I couldn’t name.
I walked through days wrapped in the unknown,
Feeling off, not sure how it came.

I stitched up cracks with other people’s peace.
Said I was fine in a practiced tone.
Carried silence like a second skin,
A seed still sprouting where wild weeds roam.

I still dream like the world will shift for me.
I breathe in what breaks me, and call it good.
I keep holding the world up like it’ll fall if I don’t.
Turns out it would, and maybe it should.

The Blunt Siren