Drowning in Still Water
I move like calm rivers, unbroken, refined,
A smile on my face, composure aligned.
To the world, I'm steady, a beacon, a guide—
But chaos erupts in the chambers inside.
They see the results, the tasks all complete,
A calendar conquered, deadlines I meet.
Yet none hear the war cries that echo within,
Or notice the cracks that form under skin.
I’m the go-to, the strong one, reliable, sound,
But no one observes when I’m barely unbound.
Each breath a performance, rehearsed and constrained,
Each step a negotiation with the panic unclaimed.
My thoughts, like vultures, circle overhead,
Feeding on fears and the words left unsaid.
What if I fail? What if I fall?
What if I can’t bear this burden at all?
Still water runs deep, the old saying goes—
And beneath mine, a tempest eternally grows.
I laugh in the meetings, I nod, I comply,
Then go home and break down with no reason why.
Perfection’s my prison, control is my chain,
Success is a shield concealing the pain.
They praise the achiever, the poised and precise,
But don’t see the cost, the invisible price.
Anxiety cloaked in high-functioning grace,
A storm in my chest with a porcelain face.
It whispers, “You’re not enough,” day after day,
While I shine like the sun and keep shadows at bay.
So if you see someone who seems to have peace,
Whose laughter is constant, whose efforts don’t cease—
Pause, be gentle, don’t judge what you see,
They might be drowning silently, just like me.
Let’s speak of the silence, the masks we all wear,
Of battling demons with nobody aware.
For healing begins when truth has its part—
When we name the still waters and open the heart.
