I'm not mad, I've let it go,
No rage to burn, no need to show.
I've reached the edge, I've seen the signs,
I'm done with crossing broken lines.
I'm done with the weight that steals my peace,
With giving my all and getting the least.
I'm done with the love that never returns,
With hearts that forget how deeply mine burns.
I'm done with the trying, the chasing, the strain,
With pouring out care and collecting the pain.
I'm done with the silence, the effort unmet,
With people who take and always forget.
No anger remains, no fire, no fight—
Just quiet resolve to do what feels right.
If you can't match the love that I give,
Then I'll walk away so I can live.
Family or friend, I've drawn the line—
If you abuse what's truly mine,
My heart, my time, my steady hand—
Then I'll let go. You won't understand.
I'm not mad, I'm not cruel, I'm not cold—
I'm just done with stories that never unfold.
I choose my peace, my worth, my sun—
I'm not angry anymore. I'm just done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem