The clear and positive mind
lies beneath a heavy, pressing burden.
Countless words and sharp negativity
thrown at one body—
one soul—
by those who refuse to look at themselves.
There is pain in beauty,
and restlessness in each day.
No one truly understands.
They are blinded—
only seeing the flaws,
the scars,
the smallest cracks in an otherwise earnest effort.
Hatred…
That's a word I've never wanted to carry.
But how else do you name the absence of appreciation,
the silence where love should have answered?
It's hard to hold myself up in this vast, spinning world.
And the more I open my eyes,
the scarier it gets.
But also clearer.
The truth is wide—
endless.
And I'm starting to see it.
Still…
why can't they see me?
Why do they look away
when everything I'm feeling
is right in front of them?
Something is growing inside me.
Is it fear?
Loneliness?
Or something else that has no name—
just a weight that pulls,
quietly, endlessly,
from the center of my soul?