I never healed

I never healed, I just kept going. The weight of old wounds settled into my bones, making a home where rest should have been. I moved through the days as if time alone could undo what had been done. Nights whispered the same echoes, but I learned to let them hum in the background. I smiled in the sunlight, but the shadows inside me never disappeared. People mistook my endurance for strength, but it was only the habit of survival. I carried myself forward, not because I was whole, but because stopping felt heavier than moving. And so, I remained—unmended, but in motion. 

Barkus