I decided to write down my thoughts through a poem. Maybe you’ll see yourself in it, just as I do.

I am less than I want to be,
my voice quiet, my steps heavy,
a cannonball shackles my dreams,
though I feel great strength within me,
it’s as if I stand in endless mire.

I longed to fit in, to find the warmth of friendship,
but instead, I was left exposed,
vulnerable, uncovered,
and every fall hurts more than the last.
Haven’t I suffered enough?

Every morning, a brick wall rises before me,
high and unyielding,
and I must break it down again,
brick by brick,
just to move forward.
Yet the next day, it’s back,
the same—or taller still.

I ask myself—why me?
Why does my past cast shadows over my days?
The trauma follows me,
dragging behind every step I take,
like an unwanted companion,
a permanent guest in my mind.

Frustration—my daily bread,
hope? Only shards remain.
Is there truly no way out?
Will I suffer like this forever?
I can’t, I can’t keep suffocating,
under the weight that grips me every day.

I want to scream,
to tell others how I feel,
but words get lost,
my voice stuck in my throat.
I want to be happy—without barriers,
without pain, without these chains.

I deserve relief.
I deserve to live.
Will it ever end?
Will I ever find peace?