If Anyone Is Listening

I do not need another lecture
about being stronger.

I have been strong
for longer
than anyone should ever have to be.

Strength
has become the prison
that convinces the world
I no longer need rescuing.

But I do.

If anyone is listening,
please hear me now.

I am tired.

Not the kind of tired
that disappears after sleep.

I have forgotten
what real sleep feels like.

Fear has trained my eyes
to remain open
long after my body
has begged for mercy.

Home
is supposed to be
where your shoulders soften.

Mine rise
the moment I pull into the driveway.

Every room
asks me to become
someone smaller.

Every conversation
teaches me
to doubt what I know.

Every day
I lose another piece
of the person
I was trying to become.

Food should not feel
like another battlefield.

Yet my body
shrinks beneath the weight
of constant uncertainty,
as if hunger
has learned my name.

I keep writing.

Not because words
can stop what hurts.

Because they are
the only evidence
I know how to leave behind.

Every poem,
every reflection,
every line of my work
is me knocking
on a thousand unseen doors,
hoping one of them
finally opens.

I am building something
that I hope
will help other people
find their way
through darkness.

But I cannot pretend
I do not need someone
to help me
through mine.

I do not wish harm
upon the people
who have wounded me.

I do not dream
of revenge.

I dream
of a place
where I can unclench.

Where I can sleep
without bargaining
with tomorrow.

Where I can eat
without fear.

Where I can remember
what my own thoughts
sound like
when they are not
competing
with survival.

If anyone is listening,
please understand—

I am not asking
for pity.

I am asking
for a chance.

A chance
to finish the work
I know I was meant to do.

A chance
to become
the person
I have been trying
to remain alive
long enough to meet.

If you have ever wondered
what a cry for help
looks like,

it does not always arrive
as screaming.

Sometimes

it arrives

as another poem,

written by someone
who is desperately hoping
that this will be
the one

someone finally reads.