I HURT FOR ME

I learned early that my feelings had no place to land. I hurt for me.

I moved through years without softness, without safety, without a hand to hold. I hurt for me.

I taught myself silence because speaking never changed anything. I hurt for me.

I carried weight that was never mine to carry. I hurt for me.

I walked through rooms where I was invisible even when I was breaking. I hurt for me.

I held everything inside because nowhere felt safe enough to let it out. I hurt for me.

I stood alone in moments meant for comfort. I hurt for me.

I hid pain so well it became part of my posture. I hurt for me.

I kept moving through days that offered nothing back. I hurt for me.

I stayed strong long after strength turned into numbness. I hurt for me.

I learned to shrink so I wouldn’t be noticed. I hurt for me.

I kept my face still while my insides folded in on themselves. I hurt for me.

I held myself up because no one else ever reached out. I hurt for me.

I kept going when my body begged to stop. I hurt for me.

I kept surviving when survival felt like the only option left. I hurt for me.

I kept everything buried until it burned through me. I hurt for me.

I survived moments that should have shattered me. I hurt for me.

I stayed small so the damage wouldn’t show. I hurt for me.

I breathed through emptiness that never gave anything back. I hurt for me.

I stayed quiet in a world that never listened. I hurt for me.

I hurt for the baby, the toddler, the teenager, the young adult, and the woman in me. I still hurt for me.