The room is quiet now,
its walls thick with the weight of what has been done.
The air presses heavy, like the earth itself
has paused to listen.
Your hands tremble,
but no one reaches to steady them.
The words you've avoided for so long
hang in the stillness,
not as accusations,
but as truths too old to deny.
Time moves in circles,
slow and deliberate,
until it catches up with you—
not in a rush,
but in the certainty
of every step you took without thinking.
The silence speaks louder
than any outburst could,
and in its shadow,
you see the faces you've ignored,
the voices you've silenced,
the damage you've hidden behind excuses.
There is no escape,
no words to undo what has been broken,
only the cold, unyielding presence
of what must now be faced.
And in that moment,
you understand—
the only way forward
is through the weight
of your own reflection.
?