He sees you standing in a quiet room,
the clock ticking softly beside you—
a reminder that even slow days still move.
The door behind you holds its rusted lock,
but he knows you’re not avoiding life;
you’re trying to steady a mind
that shakes without warning.
He notices the careful smile you wear
as you navigate the noise of a crowded street.
To others, you look fine,
but he feels the heavy tide beneath it—
the way anxiety tightens your breath,
and depression anchors your steps
like invisible hands pulling at your ankles.
None of this makes you weak.
It makes you someone who’s been fighting quietly
long before anyone noticed.
He feels the silence settle around you,
not as a punishment,
but as a sanctuary where your mind retreats
when the world becomes
too sharp,
too loud,
too much.
A small hill, a soft sky,
a moment where nothing demands a mask.
Being alone is part of being human,
but the isolation that heavy days bring—
that hollow ache, that drifting feeling—
he wishes he could lift from your shoulders.
And he wants you to know this:
your struggle is real,
your feelings are valid,
and even when your mind feels tangled,
you are not moving through this world unseen.
Tags:
All Poems