The Stigma

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It clings to me, like shadowed scars,
A weight unseen, behind closed bars.
A mark they left, a whispered name,
Silent judgment, hidden shame.

In crowded rooms, it hangs, it waits,
An invisible hand that hesitates.
A glance too long, a fleeting sigh—
Questions lingering, unspoken, why?

They don't see the soul within,
Only labels carved in skin.
A story told from words misheard,
A truth obscured by a single word.

But I am more than their narrowed eyes,
More than rumors, more than lies.
For underneath, my heart beats strong,
A voice unsilenced, a song prolonged.

I wear the weight, I bear the strain,
Yet I rise up, again and again.
For stigma fades when courage grows,
And the truth beneath begins to show.

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