Sometimes steps echo
in places she no longer lives.
She runs in place
while destinations change—
doing whatever it takes
to keep life familiar for the child holding her hand.
Her breath learns strange habits
when trapped inside misery,
even laughing at the wrong moments
because peace feels too far away to promise.
Mistakes carve the future.
Her body wears the ink of survival—
chapters written by a life
she didn’t have the luxury of choosing.
She wears her scars like art,
but they still bleed in private.
The shell she carries is gentle,
yet it looks like a wall—
layered, weathered,
drenched in quiet tears.
She never travels alone.
There is always a passenger,
and she’s still deciding
whose seatbelt to fasten first.
The gold she owns is never worn.
It stays hidden beneath responsibility,
as if shining too brightly
might cost her something she can’t afford to lose.
Her wings are delayed,
but no less majestic.
The landing won’t be smooth—
but it will be necessary.
Bracing for impact
has shaped her into everything
she once doubted she could be.
About the Creator
Marcus Hill
Words speak louder than anything on earth, Keep writing! Keep speaking!
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Comments (1)
Oooh this really hit me in the heart. “….as if shining too brightly….” ♥️ And it’s always little’s seat belt first ♥️ ♥️ thanks for sharing this poem!