“So here’s to the fighters, the voices unheard.” This poem is about being overlooked at work, and the quiet strength of those who refuse to give up on a fairer path.

“No two souls wear the same skin.” This poem is about the many shapes our journeys take through sorrow and joy, and why every story deserves to be heard.

In shadows cast by careless hands, 

I wander through forgotten lands, 

Brushed off like leaves on a winter's ground, 

In a world of silence, no solace found. 

Unseen, my cries hidden in air, 

Underneath the weight of their indifferent glare, 

Tormentors dance on the edges of light, 

While I stumble through dreams that haunt my night. 

With every laugh that sliced like glass, 

Each glance that turned me into past, 

I gathered wounds that festered and grew, 

A garden of pain, where hope barely sprouted through. 

Anger ignites in a heart withdrawn, 

A wildfire blazing before the dawn. 

For every slight, every cruel remark, 

They lit the match that left its mark. 

PTSD, my shadow and chain, 

A heavy cloak woven from grief and pain. 

Left to sift through the debris of me, 

Picking pieces I never thought would be free. 

Undervalued, anchored by doubt, 

Whispers of “less than” echo about. 

Yet amid the rubble, a flicker remains, 

A will to rise from these countless strains. 

I gather my strength from every ache, 

With each fractured moment, a chance to remake. 

Transcending the anger that held me so tight, 

I take back my power, reclaiming my light. 

Though they cast me aside, I'll no longer break, 

From the ashes of trauma, a new life I'll make. 

No more a victim, but a warrior bold, 

In the tapestry woven, my story is told.

In a room full of loud voices, she is the one no one hears. People nod and smile while their eyes drift elsewhere. This poem captures the loneliness of being overlooked, and the inner fire that decides to speak anyway.