In those words, they handed me a key—
to armour I wore unknowingly.
A mask that locked me in from the world,
its weight a comfort, strangely unfurled.
I turned it over in my hand,
traced edges I couldn’t understand.
I saw its shape behind closed eyes,
but stayed where silence felt like disguise—
From those walls I could not rise.
But then—
a whisper flickered through the hush,
not one I knew, not one I’d trust.
To face the world just naked skin,
not knowing what I’d held within,
each emotion crashed like waves too wide
for fragile bones to hold inside.
Each sound, a storm.
Each gaze,
A question I could not reply
I reached for the safety I had known,
but the walls were gone—crumbled stone.
The cracks beneath my feet grew wide,
until the world began to slide.
Alone, exposed, and trembling bare,
even silence stung the air.
But then—
the whisper came again,
not from beyond,
but deep within.
A murmur my body remembered,
from before I had words.
It offered no comfort, no retreat,
only truth—
raw and complete.
And in its truth—
a safety transformed,
not hiding,
but simply being
