Two Sides of a Coin

What does it mean to be created—an act of making, or a life shaped by rage, silence, and impossible expectations? A stolen voice, a gilded cage, the weight of never being enough beside someone who never had the chance. Usefulness unravels. Is it what someone gives, or simply that they exist? Does value require holding everything together while falling apart? A person forged from grief, made to protect, is left with one question: what does it mean to be someone to someone else?