I never asked to hold up the sky,
But still, it settled in my spine.
A burden born of silent pleas,
Of others' wars and fractured seas.

I learned to carry, not to cry—
To shoulder storms and ask not why.
They saw me still, and thought me whole,
While their torment hollowed out my very soul.

This weight—my shadow, worn and thin,
Has lived beneath my thickest skin.
I lift, I bear, I do not break,
But every breath feels less awake.

I never begged for lighter loads,
Or even maps through winding roads.
All I asked—just once, just then,
Was for the step of one true friend.

Not someone strong, not made to save,
Just someone kind, and slightly brave.
To walk beside, to see me bleed,
To know the cost of being need.

They praised my spine, called it divine,
While carving scars along the lines.
And in their eyes, I was the flame—
Unburned, unloved, without a name.

I do not want the world to bow.
I never did, not then, not now.
I only wished for one soft soul,
To share the path, not pay the toll.

But silence clings where voices fade,
And I remain, the strong, the stayed.
Still holding up what none can see—
The weight they left… and all of me.