I am no reed flute, yet hollowed inside,

At times I was silent, at times swept aside.

I passed through hearts, untouched, unseen,

Misunderstood—turned inward, undefined.

The aim was never praise or fame,

But to kneel at a heart’s door without a name.

No applause, no stage, no show to pursue—

Just to be known, in essence, true.

Even smiles wear masks in this age,

Eyes grow blind, and ears disengage.

Though a face may smile with a heart of stone,

Without one who sees you—you shrink to the bone.

Loneliness is not my grief—it’s known,

But being judged cuts to the bone.

There lived a soul, so quietly torn,

Shattered by looks cold and forlorn.

Don’t mistake this sigh for love, I plead!

This is rusted echo from a lack of heed.

Not to burn, nor to be adored—

Just to be understood. Nothing more.

Let these laments not be called a poem,

Maybe they’ll reach one heart alone.

For it isn’t love that saves us all—

But faultless mercy, that asks no toll.