Silent Collapse

I’m dying where no eyes can reach,

a quiet erosion, a breaking beneath.

The outside still breathes, still smiles, still stands—

while inside, I’m dust slipping through my own hands.

It’s easier this way, invisible grief,

no stares, no questions, no chance of relief.

If they saw the wars I’m forced to fight,

they’d vanish, afraid of the weight of my night.

I want to speak, I ache to confess,

but the words dissolve into tears, into mess.

Cry, and cry, and cry again—

a flood that drowns paper, yet spares all my friends.

I will not place my burden down

on shoulders too soft, too fragile, too proud.

It’s mine to carry, mine to defend,

a silent collapse with no visible end.

Better unseen, better unknown,

for when people see storms, they leave you alone.

So I’ll die in the dark while the daylight pretends,

that I’m whole on the surface,

though broken within.