No Hands But Mine
The bed feels colder than it should
the walls are staring back at me
No mother’s voice, no scent of home
just empty plates, just ticking clocks
just me, and the weight of it all
The streets speak words I cannot catch
tongues twist like ribbons in the air.
I count my money, breathe in deep,
one meal less, one night more
one step closer to something bigger
At night, I dream of hands I knew
fingers braiding my childhood hair
Laughter, golden, spilling loud,
but I wake up, the world is gray,
morning waits with hungry hands
I stack my books, I stack my days,
each one a bridge I have to cross
No time for tears, no time for fear,
just one more essay, one more shift,
just me, and the dream I chase
And still, a tiny ember glows,
a whisper soft behind my ribs
Home is waiting, home is real,
somewhere, my name still means love
somewhere, I am not alone
Support Young Creators Like This One!
VoiceBox is a platform built to help young creators thrive. We believe that sharing thoughtful, high-quality content deserves pay even if your audience isn’t 100,000 strong.
But here's the thing: while you enjoy free content, our young contributors from all over the world are fairly compensated for their work. To keep this up, we need your help.
Will you join our community of supporters?
Your donation, no matter the size, makes a real difference. It allows us to:
- Compensate young creators for their work
- Maintain a safe, ad-free environment
- Continue providing high-quality, free content, including research reports and insights into youth issues
- Highlight youth voices and unique perspectives from cultures around the world
Your generosity fuels our mission! By supporting VoiceBox, you are directly supporting young people and showing that you value what they have to say.
