There is a room inside ourselves,
quiet but full of trembling,
where worry curls like smoke,
and anger bites through silence.
Self-pity lingers here,
dripping from the walls,
while depression folds its weight
into the softest corners.
Sometimes, the threat comes like a storm,
rushing in from a stranger\'s eyes,
an unkind word splitting
the fragile surface of our peace.
Other times, it blooms within us,
like a flower with teeth
that gnash against the sunlight,
clawing to stay unseen.
Each relationship is a reflection—
a mirror smudged with history,
a question we forgot to stop
and answer in the stillness.
When instincts tremble,
when the earth beneath shifts,
do we fall, or do we grip
the jagged edges that bruise us?