The Weight I Carry

It hurts to give your best—it’s still not enough.

It hurts to be the choice they pick second.

A smile hides what no one ever sees—

The fear, the stress, the whispers of doubt.

Like shadows I can’t shake off my back.

My mind is loud; a storm won't let me rest.

Faith feels foolish—a plea for stale bread.

Pressed to the glass of another’s joy,

I see a world I don’t belong to.

My work means nothing—my hands are tired.

Is this the fate stitched into my skin?

Not part of this world. Never belonged.

Is this fair? Is this the hand I’m forced to play?

I wish for new cards—but at what cost?

Would joy cost pieces of who I am?

Could I trade this pain for peace?

Each day repeats: fight, rise, fall, repeat.

Fight, fight, fight—until I bleed inside.

I wonder who I’d be if I ever felt whole.

The weight is silent, cruel, unseen—

Yet I still smile, though my back bends.

To walk with ancestors behind me—

How hard not to fail the ones I love.

Still, through soft rays in deep waters below,

Hope finds the hopeless, tired, and unseen.

Like fire that burns stronger than before,

I lay my weight down gently and breathe.