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The Ones Who Don’t Say

They walk beside you,
light in their laughter,
as if the world never touched them
with anything but grace.

But beneath the silence,
a storm once raged—
nights stitched with tears,
battles fought alone,
memories sharp as glass
hidden behind soft eyes.

They don’t speak of it.
Not to be noble,
but because survival
isn’t a story they need to tell.

They build,
with hands that once trembled,
a life that doesn’t beg for pity—
only presence.

And in their quiet,
you’ll find a strength
that doesn’t roar,
but rises.