Mikascending

In the quiet hours, where shadows stretch long,

I carry the weight of what’s gone wrong.

Not a weight you can hold, nor a chain you can see,

But the echoes of choices that made me… me.

They whisper at dawn, they linger at night,

A chorus of “what-ifs” that dims every light.

The words I swallowed, the roads not taken,

The promises made, then cruelly forsaken.

Do you feel it too? That invisible strain,

The tug of regret, the ghost of pain?

A smile for the world, a mask so tight,

But inside, the storms wage endless fights.

And yet, within this chaos, a spark still glows,

A small, fragile ember that quietly knows:

We’re stitched by our scars, but not wholly defined,

There’s beauty in breaking and mending in kind.

For every tear shed, there’s a seed to be sown,

A garden of lessons where resilience is grown.

The weight may not vanish, but strength will appear,

In carrying what’s heavy, we conquer our fear.

So here’s to the burden, the ache, the climb,

The fight for meaning through space and time.

We are not alone in this labyrinth of feels,

For what we bury, someone else heals.

And maybe that’s life: a tangle, a dance,

Of holding the pain while giving hope a chance.

So, to you who feels heavy, I see you, I care—

Your heart’s not alone, we’re all anchored there.

battered

bruised

the fallen says

"i deserve better"

and they rise