The Weight Of Unseen Shadows

I stand beneath a heavy sky,

A silent witness, torn and shy,

Caught in the crossfire of your storm,

A battered soul, forlorn, forlorn.

Your words, like stones, they find their mark,

Each syllable ignites a spark

Of pain that lingers, sharp and deep,

A ache that's born, a wound to keep.

I am the cushion where you throw

Your anger, hurt, and ebbing woe,

A target for your shifting rage,

A silent story on a fragile page.

No voice to cry, no hand to hold,

Just trembling presence, quiet, cold,

A human punching bag, they say,

Yet more a soul who longs for day.

I wear your bitterness like rust,

A tarnished crown I never trust,

And in these bruises, black and blue,

Lies the silent cry of “Please, be kind too.”

Why do I stay in this storm’s eye?

Is hope a whisper, faint and shy?

Or a flicker burning deep within,

That someday, wounds might heal again?

I’ve been the echo in your rage,

The silent partner on love’s stage,

But beneath the bruises and the scars,

A beating heart still fights the odds.

To break away feels like a crime,

A dance of pain across the time,

Yet every punch that falls on me

Would shatter worlds if I set free.

So here I stand, battered but strong,

Knowing one day I’ll move along,

From shadows cast by hurt and fear,

To find my strength, my voice sincere.

For no one should bear endless blows,

No burden should their spirit close,

And though I’ve been thrown into the fray,

My dawn will break a brighter day.