ALSphere Foundation
The mirror cracks, but no blood spills from the wound,
Silence sharpens, slicing deeper than any spoken word.
Inside, a storm rages where no eye can see,
Winds of anguish twist the ribs like rusted nails.
I wear this mask, this skin, a brittle shell,
The world walks by, blind to the screams beneath.
Each breath a burden, heavy as forgotten dreams,
The night folds in, a cloak of cold regret.
The heart beats, yes, but feels nothing—just echoes,
An endless ache beneath the surface of each smile.
Pain moves like shadows, creeping, unseen,
Yet always there, beneath the skin, behind the eyes.
I tear at the seams of this quiet despair,
But no one sees the scars that never bled.
Every sigh becomes a whispered scream in the dark,
Waiting to be heard by no one but the void.
What is pain, if no one dares to call it real?
A ghost in the bones, unacknowledged, yet always here.
