The alarm cuts through dark.
I don't move.
Not because I'm tired,
but because I already know
what the day will ask of me.

Coffee burns my throat.
Silence hangs heavy in the kitchen.
I dress like armor,
breathe like it's a choice.

Outside,the world pretends it's whole.
Inside,I patch the same cracks
with new words,
fake calm,
a half-smile that never reaches my eyes.

It's not always loud.
Sometimes the fight is
getting out of bed.
Sometimes
it's remembering who I am
beneath all the holding on.