I Keep Thinking Maybe It’s Simpler©️by Felina Silver (Copyright 2025)

Write a poem in a ‘stream of consciousness’ style.

I keep thinking, maybe it’s simpler than we make it🎎
this whole being-human thing,
maybe it’s just waking up and remembering that every person
carries a tiny earthquake under their ribs,
that everyone is breaking a little
even when their smile looks sanded smooth.

And I wonder why we sharpen ourselves
on each other’s imperfections,
why we fling opinions like stones
as if we couldn’t bruise too.
It feels tiring—doesn’t it?⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆
this constant sorting of people
into right, wrong, worthy, unworthy
like we’re all filing cabinets that need labels.

Sometimes I want to shout,
hey, it’s okay to be soft,
it’s okay to be unsure,
it’s okay to love yourself
even on the mornings you wake up crooked
and full of static.

Maybe if we remembered that kindness
isn’t a reward but a starting place,
that gentleness doesn’t mean weakness
but an openness to see the trembling in someone else’s voice🌬️
maybe then the world would unclench a little.

I keep drifting back to this thought:
love is not some grand cathedral we build once;
it’s the quiet work of noticing, returning,
reaching out a hand instead of pointing a finger,
listening without rehearsing a response.

And I believe, maybe stubbornly,
that people could love each other more
if they’d only stop measuring themselves
against impossible mirrors,
stop judging the shadows that others drag behind them.

We’re all learning, stumbling,
wanting to be held, wanting to be understood👌
and maybe the truth is
we’re much more alike in our ache
than we are different in our armor.

So I keep murmuring to myself
in this half-formed, wandering way:
be kinder.
start here.
start now.
start with the small, fragile miracle
that someone else exists beside you(づ˶•༝•˶)づ♡
and let that be enough to soften you
toward love again.