Trembling—
not just from the cold,
but from the weight you bore,
far more than any young heart
was ever meant to carry.

They shared their pain
but never asked about yours.

You were silenced
with words like,
"You’re too young to be sad,"
and
"Just wait until you see the real world."

So you began to doubt your ache,
questioning the shape of your sorrow.

Why do I feel this way?
Why am I not allowed?

Their trauma,
your own,
all packed into a space
never meant to hold so much.

You held it in.
Tried to hold it all together.
Became a vessel of grief
they refused to see.