The Mirror Behind My Guard There’s a part of me that holds me still, Afraid to move against their will, To speak too loud, to stand too tall, What if I stumble, what if I fall? Single moments, carved too deep, Taught me, which parts I had to keep, I masked my spark, reshaped my tone, Until their doubts became my own. I called it calm, I named it wise, But really it was compromise, I feared their gaze, their silent test, I stayed much smaller than the rest. No bars, no locks, no heavy gate,  Just habits formed from aching weight, A loop of thought that wraps so tight, I learned to fear my own true light. Each time I reached, I pulled back too, Afraid of what my voice might do, I kept rehearsing who to be, While losing touch with what was me. Their rules were etched behind my eyes, So each decision came with ties, I copied tones and held my breath, Convinced that truth would lead to death. But still, a quiet beat would grow, A pulse that told me what I know. That underneath the doubt I fed, There lived a self, I’d left for dead. And now I feel what they can’t see, The cost of shrinking constantly, I stayed in cages built from fear, But now Ill learn to dodge that sphere. The parts I feared was mine to show, It’s how I rise, it’s how I grow. I won’t stay quiet, dimmed, or small. I’ll meet myself beyond the wall. Cathrine Hottran 2025