The Weight of Their Words

They call her name like a perfect song,

While I’m the discord, the note gone wrong.

Her shadow stretches across my days,

A reminder of worth I’ll never raise.

She sees my pain, my breaking frame,

And tries to help—but it feels like shame.

Her kindness cuts, a polished knife,

Reminding me of my fractured life.

"Let me help," she says, her voice sincere,

But all I hear is pity near.

Her outstretched hand feels like a chain,

Binding me deeper in my pain.

Does she think I’m weak, that I need her grace?

Her offers burn, a slap to my face.

I don’t want her pity, her careful care,

I want to be free of their judging glare.

The harder she tries, the deeper I fall,

Each gesture a reminder, I’m nothing at all.

Her help is a mirror, reflecting my flaws,

A cruel spotlight on their applause.

Her eyes brim with hurt, she doesn’t see,

That her rescue feels like cruelty to me.

I don’t want her saving, her martyr's touch,

It only reminds me I’m not enough.

So I turn away, let her tears fall,

Behind her kindness, I feel so small.

She walks away, her shoulders low,

And still, their words to her don’t go.

But here I remain, their perfect mistake,

A vessel of anger they can’t break.

If she thinks I’ll rise, she’s misunderstood,

For I’ll burn it all down before I’m "good."