Therapy Bits

Some days arrive like thunderclouds,
uninvited, loud, and gray—
a hush beneath the chaos swells
where sunlight seems to lose its way.

We walk with grief tucked in our shoes,
a pebble pressing every stride,
and no one sees the quiet bruise
that blooms beneath what we confide.

The laughter shared feels paper-thin,
a brittle echo through the air,
and joy becomes a distant kin
who doesn’t write or seem to care.

We wear our masks with practiced grace,
each painted smile, each measured word—
and yet beneath, it feels absurd
to fake the calm in this dark place.

Still, breath by breath, we thread the night,
untangle sorrow’s silent song—
and though we break, we still belong,
and broken things can find the light.

So let the tears fall if they must,
like rain on fields that ache for spring—
for healing often hides in rust,
and pain gives depth to everything.

FOWC With Fandango — Absurd – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies