They call me dramatic, too full of pain,
As if I chose this endless rain.
They say the sorrow’s mine to keep,
That I invite the nights I weep.

They claim I built these walls so high,
That I alone shut out the sky.
They think I asked for silence near,
To turn from crowds, to disappear.

But if control were truly mine,
I’d paint my days with brighter lines.
I’d trade the ache for gentle skies,
And let the sun in my weary eyes.

For none would choose a cage of stone,
Or seek to suffer all alone.
No heart would wish to bleed this way,
Or lock itself from light of day.

I walk a road they cannot know,
A hidden stream, a quiet flow.
They see the mask, but not the fight,
The endless search for even light.

So let them speak, let judgment fall,
They do not hear the silent call.
For deep within, though faint, though small,
A hope still whispers: live through all.