Don’t tell me sorry. Not when you’ve already thrown the words like knives and now act surprised that I’m bleeding. Not when you knew what you were doing When your tone was sharp, When your actions spoke louder than any apology ever could. I’ve always hated that word. "Sorry." It feels too light for the weight of what I had to carry. It doesn’t undo the damage. It doesn’t erase the overthinking, the sleepless nights, the shaking hands I had to hold together just to look okay in front of people. It doesn't fix how I now flinch at certain tones or doubt my worth just because someone made me question it Sorry Such a small word for something so heavy. People say it like it’s a bandage, like it can magically erase what they’ve done. But the truth is… it doesn't remove to the pain. I’ve always hated that word. Not because apologies aren’t necessary, but because most times, they’re empty just noise to silence the guilt, not music to soothe the wounded. “Sorry” doesn’t sit with you when you cry. It doesn’t rewrite the moments you felt unwanted, unheard, unloved. It just hangs there… People throw around the word “sorry” like it's magic. Like it has the power to mend what they shattered. But it doesn’t. It never has. You don’t bleed less because someone said sorry. Your trust doesn’t magically return. The ache doesn’t disappear. The memories don’t dissolve. Sorry doesn’t reach the places that were broken in silence. It doesn’t wrap around the nights spent crying into your pillow, or the way your chest tightens at the thought of being “too much” for people to stay. When you annoy me, I don’t need “sorry.” I need people to be better before there's a need for it To stop using sorry as an excuse to hurt and repeat.