SHE FORGOT SHE WAS A POEM(unit she wrote )
There was a time I forgot I was softness wrapped in ink — a stanza stitched with silence, a metaphor the world never learned to read. She wasn’t always like this. Quiet in a loud world. Trying to be prose when her heart beat in rhythm. She used to know herself in whispers, in rainy windows and skies above garden , in room's corners and the smell of old pages. But somewhere between growing up and growing quiet... She forgot. She forgot that softness wasn’t weakness. That her voice didn’t have to echo to be heard. That poems don’t always rhyme — but they still matter. ✏️ A memory: I remember sitting in class once,at rainy day Scribbling about the loniness which crafted my childhood And this girl wrote her first words What if I was too much — or worse, not enough? So I wrote a poem in the margin of my notebook instead. I didn’t say it out loud. But my heart did. And maybe… that was enough. Now, through every word I write, I’m remembering. I remembe...