Created by Rachel Maria Kisellus

She was so good at it.

At holding it in. At smiling through. At being “fine.”

She never cried wolf. Not once.

Not when the pain first came like a whisper,

not when it grew fangs.

Not when her body began to unravel under the weight

of all the unspoken.

She thought that was strength ~

to never need saving.

But no one tells you what happens to the girl

who never cried wolf.

No one warns you that when you never name the danger,

people assume there isn’t any.

That silence doesn’t inspire loyalty ~

it erases you.

So when the wolves finally came,

she didn’t scream.

She didn’t run.