I’m a place
you can’t visit without leaving a part of yourself behind.
A room that doesn’t fit
everyone’s idea of comfort.

I’m not made for the ones
who look for easy exits,
who leave their shoes by the door
and never bother to unpack.

I’m the space you wander into,
thinking you can stay
just long enough to say you tried—
but I don’t do half-effort.
I don’t do surface-level.

You’ll find pieces of me in the corners,
in the silence between words,
in the weight that hangs when you stay too long.
Some will call it too much.
Some will say it’s nothing at all.

But if you’re not willing to sit with the hard parts,
to stand in the mess and find meaning in the chaos,
I’m not for you.

And that’s okay.
I’m not for everyone.
But for those who stay,
they’ll see the quiet strength
in everything that isn’t said.