---
---
I am looking at the mirror,
Midlife isn't a crisis, just a reckoning,
I’ve spent years learning how not to flinch,
While putting out invisible flames.
Some scars still scares, hair raising,
Others just support like background noise.
---
The body,
a map of old battles.
The heart?
Just one more machine among many.
---
I scan the system,
for cracks where dignity bleeds,
where a mistake becomes a story
told over oxygen tubes and intake reports.
---
I nod, I listen.
I carry the weight that won’t chart on any screen.
The mind keeps on buzzing quiet above,
volatile is my mind,
Mind is a field kept with explosives,
---
I put out pages,
inked in existence and it's crisis,
No applause !!
No roaring crowd !!
Just silence,
And the soft ribbon of a finished line.
---
Spouse asks,
"How much did you make out of your aches?"
I wanted to say ;
I made it through Thursday.
I made it to the morning where the words didn’t sting.
I made a verse out of a wound,
and someone read it.
And maybe... maybe they stayed a little longer
in this world because of it.
---
The world,
spinning pretty, fast and out of reach.
It doesn't notice the ones who limp quietly to the finish line,
Still, I scribble through its noise.
---
My rhythms don’t sell.
But they ring true.
They are stubborn.
And they are mine.
---
Now?
The heart still beats.
But it no longer carries the weight of needing to be understood.
It is only a component,
But it has survived.
---
"Midlife isn't a crisis. It's a reckoning. A quiet battle fought far from the spotlight, putting out invisible flames and learning how not to flinch. Have you felt it too?"
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This is great. Glad I helped inspire it in some small way.