The shadow of my soul walks beside me,
silent but heavy,its weight
pressing into the corners of my thoughts.
It is neither enemy nor friend,
but a witness-collecting what I bury
and what I dare not speak.
When I laugh,it does not echo.
When I grieve,it deepens,
stretching long across the ground like an unbroken truth.

I used to fear it,thinking it proof of my darkness.
But shadows are born from light,
and in its quiet persistence,I see that I am whole,
fragile and flawed, luminous and hidden.
The shadow of my soul is not a chain,but a mirror.
In it I glimpse the parts of me I have yet to face,
and the courage I am still learning to claim.