Some truths never make it to the surface.
They live in the space between roles and routines, in the quiet persistence of survival, in the knowing glance or withheld breath.
This piece is for what remains unspoken.
For what we’re told to keep hidden.
For what still lives underneath.
Hidden By Steven Smith Word-salad narratives. Imperatives! Rubber stamp Broken lamp Hidden— Open doors. Hidden sores. Pounding feet. Dust—deceit. Hidden— Class dismissed. Not on the list. Held in tow. Nowhere to go. Hidden— Points of view. New—not for you. Persistent stagnation. Self flagellation. Hidden— Coping skills. Pay the bills. Tow the line. Pretend it’s fine. Hidden— Stationary figurines. Animating scenes. Lines in between. Always unseen. Hidden— Competition—superstition. Juxtaposition—imposition. Colloquial lives. Gathered in hives. Hidden— Peace—understanding. Asking, not demanding. Compassion—giving. Never forget the living. Hidden— Open hand. No line in the sand. Equality—not poverty. Ego free. Hidden—
We live in a world that often demands performance, but it’s in the pauses, the breakage, and the quiet truths that our deepest humanity shines through.
If this resonated with you, I’d be honored if you’d consider supporting my work by buying me a coffee, donating to my GoFundMe, becoming a free or paid sub, or sharing this with someone who needs it. Your support really helps keep the robe warm and the words flowing. Thank you all.
Stay entangled, my friends.
—The Bathrobe Guy