Have you ever seen a soul beneath,
A pile of pain, too dark to breathe?
No screams, no fight, no crying sound
Just quiet gasps from underground.
Have you ever watched a heart decay,
Still beating in the dust and clay?
In ruins of the self they knew,
Still standing tall, but split in two.
No hands to help, no one to call,
They learn to live inside the fall.
They dress their wounds with silent grace,
And wear a smile on a shattered face.
It's not that they can't rise again,
Or stitch their soul with golden pen
But when you break and learn to mend,
You fear the breaking all over again.
So they stay broken, soft and small,
Tucked in their ruins, behind the wall.
Not weak, not lost, just tired of pain,
Afraid to lose… what they might regain.
So if you see them, look with care,
There's strength in breathing damaged air.
Not every scar is meant to show
Some bloom in silence.
Some just grow.