It does hurt!

It feels wrong to kneel beneath another’s shadow.

So my mother said, “Stand tall. Lead your own way.”

It feels wrong to be the quiet, nodding one in the corner.

She whispered, “Be bold. Let your voice be the flame.”

It feels wrong even when I’m right.

She urged, “Fight, but with your heart unshaken.”

It feels wrong when they are wrong.

She taught me to breathe so long

that the hurt dissolves into air

so I can begin again.

It hurts, my friend

to be the backup plan they run to only when they break.

It hurts when they vanish into the light,

but never hold your hand through your own dark.

It hurts to pour yourself into their wounds,

while your own bleed in silence.

And when you do this

I am an ocean, drained.

And a sky, emptied of stars.