𝕬 𝕾𝖆𝖉 𝕻𝖔𝖊𝖙 𝕴𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊

In the Halls Where Echoes Hurt

In crowded halls, the laughter hits like rain,

each taunt a bruise, a fresh and stinging stain.

They call my name, turn every slip and fall

into a joke, their voices loud and small.

They circle close, their words a sharpened bite—

each "stupid" whispered, each memory lit bright.

I'm pushed from circles where I once belonged,

forced to the edge like I somehow did wrong.

Day after day, they line up with their jeers,

cracking me open, feeding on my fears.

I sit, I try to act like I don't hear,

but their words dig deeper than they appear.

Inside, I'm breaking, silent as I ache,

holding back floods I can barely take.

And yes, I want to scream, to break, to tear—

to slam down this pain they've left me to bear.

I think of standing up, just walking out,

losing myself in the halls, letting it out—

but they'd just laugh to see the tears I cry,

so I sit, holding on, till I'm dry inside.