Whispers Cannot Break Me

I face each step, smiling, brave, resilient
yet there is timidity in my  
voice, my movement.  
The world sharpens its tongue  
against me,  
draping its judgment in cloaks
of subtleties,  
as if their words are whispers  
only I can hear—  
yet their reverberations swell in the
chambers of my mind.
 
I stand here, flawed but unbroken,  
each wound a testament to battles  
fought unseen.  
You may cloak your barbs in  
riddles and mirrors,  
but I know their shape,  
for I have held them close  
enough to bleed.
 
You call me weak, yet you do  
not know strength—  
to write is to carve my soul  
into the silence,  
to lift my truth when all else tries  
to stifle it.  
 
I wear my pain as armor,  
for every word you cast is a reminder  
that my voice is still here, still rising.
 
So speak in your veils,  
but know that I do not flinch.  
For behind your shields,  
there is fear that I have never known.