illusions

Stranger in Me

I feel like a stranger in my own home,
a ghost wearing the skin that once was mine.
They say, “Smile, you should be grateful for life,”
but they don’t hear the pain echoing from the corner.

There are no wounds that eyes can see,
but I carry weights I cannot explain.
They say, “Talk to us, open your heart,”
but how, if I don’t even know where to begin?

Each day I wake more sunken down,
as if the world were an ocean and I, a stone.
They say, “Ignore it, it’s just a phase,”
but the pain grows heavier, more alone.

There’s a scream trapped deep in my chest,
a shadow that refuses to fade.
Sometimes I think, if I hurt on the outside,
maybe the pain within will be swayed.

But not even pain gives me shelter,
nor does silence let me sleep.
Just an emptiness that lives inside,
and words that are too tired to leap.

I am a tunnel with no end, no direction,
a soul begging to be understood.
I don’t ask for miracles or redemption
just a gesture, a touch… a way out.