11/08/2025
I have been singing in a cage,
my melody shaped for the ears of an owner
who never really listened.
I gave my voice,
my time,
my colors—
but the room stayed empty,
my words dissolving into the air
like smoke no one noticed.
And then—
I played something.
Not a masterpiece,
not even a song worth remembering.
Just a scrap of sound,
ordinary,
fragile.
You stopped.
You didn’t fill the space with questions or noise.
You didn’t try to fix or change me.
You simply stood there,
present,
eyes on me,
letting my song be heard
even without a melody.
And because you listened,
the music became beautiful.
Because you stayed,
the moment became rare.
It was only a minute,
but in that minute
I remembered I was still alive.
Maybe I am not hollow after all.
Maybe I am just waiting
for the kind of love
that sees me as I am—
not for the song I sing,
but for the soul that sings it.