The world is not soft forever.
You, child, must learn its edges.
Understand what a boundary feels like.
It won’t always bend or break.
Discipline is love folded in silence.
It is a firm set of hands.
Keeping you, teaching you balance.
It hurts only to heal, not wound.
Without it, you’ll grow wild, untethered.
Cruel to yourself, despising all structure.
Fumbling in a chaos you create.
Disappearing under your own undoing.
The weight of freedom wears heavy.
For it belongs to those who’ve learned.
Control isn’t cruel, it is a necessity.
Love sometimes comes with loud edges.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: October 29th, 2025 11:24
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
It hurts only to heal, not wound. A great line. A poem that makes deep sense. Very well done.
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