They doesn’t understand the weight I hold
how loyalty can feel like chains,
how silence can bruise deeper than words.
I keep showing up,
even when I’m tired of proving I belong.
There’s a quiet ache in giving
to those who only take,
a slow unraveling
masked by composure.
I bend to keep the peace,
break to keep the promise,
swallow boundaries
just to stay whole in the eyes of others.
They ask for presence,
but never notice absence.
They preach unity,
but never practice care.
Still, I stay
not out of weakness,
but because leaving
would mean admitting
how much it’s cost me to remain.
Amija Coleman is a fourth-year Criminal Justice with a minor in Public Health, @AC1004846@wcupa.edu