I’ve worn the weight of silence, a childhood stitched with shadows, a body stitched with pain. My veins remember the stroke, how time stopped, rewound, and never quite played the same again.
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Not Weak
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I’ve worn the weight of silence, a childhood stitched with shadows, a body stitched with pain. My veins remember the stroke, how time stopped, rewound, and never quite played the same again.