I'm proud of you for rising before light,
buttering toast in the dark, after another long night.
I'm proud of you, even when you're cracked open-
you shine in a way that shows you're not broken.
I'm proud of you and the way that your mother,
the strength that it takes, being that place for another.
I'm proud of you, and the weight in your arms,
a small head that won't rest, unless in your palms.
I'm proud of you, as you shift through another day,
with hope and then tears, that their littleness won't stay.
I'm proud of the work you're doing in the unseen.
YOU ARE READING
The Silent
Poetry⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ if any of the tagged things are sensitive to read about or makes you feel uncomfortable, please do not read! I'd hate to be the reason you feel either way. *Please feel free to leave feedback and suggestions in the comments, thx...
