شاعری کا تجزیہ

They never told me who I was.

Original Poetry

Translation

They never told me who I was.

They never told me who I was. They told me who I needed to be.

They told me who I had to be.

Be strong. Be stable. Be quiet.

Be strong.

Be steady.

I learned it so early that being silent felt like a talent before it felt like a burden.

Be quiet.

Being strong never felt like a choice — it felt like a duty. Like responsibility came first, and who I was had to follow.

And I learned it so early

that silence felt like a skill

I grew up without my father around. It wasn't a tragedy. It wasn't newsworthy. Just an absence that was always there and never explained.

before it ever felt like a cost.

I had to figure it out on my own.

Strength never felt chosen —

it felt assigned.

My mother took on both roles — gentle and firm, comforting and commanding. She raised me under a weight she never called heavy.

Like responsibility arrived first,

and identity had to catch up.

And my sisters — all four of them — taught me how to be strong before I even knew myself.

---

So I built myself instead - Like assembling manhood with missing instructions. I learned to carry burdens I didn't choose and called it growing up.

⭐ Father Absence

I learned to keep everything inside because no one ever told me what a boy can let go.

I grew up without my father there.

And in all that holding, I stopped asking what I needed and started practicing who I had to be.

Not a tragedy.

Not a headline.

Boys like me don’t break — we take it all in.

Just a space that stayed consistent

and never explained itself.

Until the burden feels normal and the silence feels deserved.

And I had to understand it

I learned to stand firm even when I felt defeated, to keep a straight face long after the cracks appeared.

without being told how.

They call it calm — but calm is just a habit you learn so young it becomes part of you.

---

I don’t talk much; once a truth is out, people start twisting it into their own version.

⭐ Mother + Sisters

So I keep my silence close, a space I’ve nurtured, where nothing acts, nothing spills, nothing is borrowed.

My mother carried both roles —

soft and stern,

I went to the movies alone. Not to escape — just to be without having to act.

comfort and command.

She raised me inside a weight

And something in that stillness changed, quietly, but enough to notice.

she never named as heavy.

What do you call it when a boy grows up and learns to turn pain into silence that behaves?

And my sisters —

four of them —

What do you call it when strength is just tiredness that never got the chance to rest?

taught me resilience

before I ever learned myself.

Some boys don’t fall apart loudly — they just stay composed long enough that silence becomes who they are.

---

And maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along… not becoming someone new, but getting better at disappearing into the shape I was told to fit.

⭐ Middle Emotional Punch

And what stays with me is this —

So I built myself instead-

I don’t know if the man I am now is who I became…

Like flat - pack masculinity with half the instructions missing.

I learned to carry things I never chose

or who I never stopped pretending to be.

and call it maturity.

I learned to swallow things whole

because nobody ever taught me

what a boy is allowed to put down.

And somewhere in all that holding,

I stopped asking what I needed

and started rehearsing who I had to be.

Boys like me don’t break —

we absorb.

Until the weight feels normal

and the silence feels earned.

---

⭐ Monorhyme Mask Section

I learned to hold my ground

even when I felt overthrown,

to keep my face composed

long after the cracks had shown.

They call it calm —

but calm is just a tone

you practise so young

it settles into your bone.

I don’t speak much;

once a truth is known,

people start shaping it

into something of their own.

So I keep my silence close,

a space I’ve grown,

where nothing performs,

nothing spills,

nothing is loaned.

---

⭐ Cinema Section

I went to the cinema alone.

Not to escape —

just to exist

without performing anything back.

And something in that stillness shifted,

quietly,

but enough to notice.

---

⭐ Question Section

What do you call it

when a boy grows up

and learns to translate pain

into silence that behaves?

What do you call it

when strength

is just exhaustion

that never got permission to stop?

---

⭐ Haunting Oxford‑Level Ending

Some boys don’t fall apart loudly —

they just stay composed long enough

that silence starts to feel like identity.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along…

not becoming something different,

but becoming better at disappearing

in the exact shape I was told to hold.

And the part that stays with me is this —

I don’t know if the man I am now

is who I became…

or who I never stopped pretending to be.

Explanation

This poem explores the complex themes of identity, masculinity, and family dynamics, particularly focusing on the absence of a father figure. The speaker reflects on how societal expectations have shaped their identity, emphasizing the roles they were told to play rather than who they truly are. The poem discusses the internalization of strength and silence as coping mechanisms, suggesting that these traits were not chosen but assigned. The absence of a father is portrayed not as a dramatic event but as a consistent void that the speaker had to navigate independently. The mother and sisters play significant roles in the speaker's upbringing, teaching resilience and strength. The poem uses vivid imagery and metaphors, such as 'flat-pack masculinity' and 'silence that behaves,' to convey the struggle of conforming to societal norms while losing one's true self. The speaker questions the nature of their identity, pondering whether they have become who they are or if they are still pretending to be someone they were told to be. The poem's structure, with its free verse and varied sections, reflects the fragmented and evolving nature of the speaker's self-discovery.

Word Dictionary15

Word	Easy Meaning	Translation	Pron.
assigned	given	given a role or task	uh-sahynd
resilience	strength	ability to recover quickly	ri-zil-yuhns
masculinity	manliness	qualities associated with being male	mas-kyuh-lin-i-tee
composed	calm	calm and in control	kuhm-pohzd
identity	self	who someone is	ahy-den-ti-tee
performing	acting	acting or doing something	per-fawr-ming
exhaustion	tiredness	extreme tiredness	ig-zaws-chuhn
silence	quiet	absence of sound	sahy-luhns
stern	strict	serious and strict	sturn
translate	convert	change into another form	trans-leyt
behaves	acts	acts in a certain way	bi-heyvz
consistency	regularity	being the same over time	kuhn-sis-tuhn-see
rehearsing	practicing	practicing repeatedly	ri-hurs-ing
absorb	take in	take in or soak up	ab-sawrb
calm	peaceful	peaceful and quiet	kahm

Poet & Context

Poet—

EraContemporary

The poet's identity is not specified, and the poem appears to be a contemporary work reflecting on themes of identity, masculinity, and family dynamics.

WhenContemporary

WhyThe poem explores themes of identity, masculinity, and the impact of family dynamics, particularly the absence of a father figure, on personal development. It reflects on societal expectations and the internalization of silence and strength as coping mechanisms.

FormFree verse

Themes & More

Themes

IdentityMasculinityFamily DynamicsSilenceStrength

Literary devices

Metaphor: 'flat-pack masculinity' suggests assembling one's identity with incomplete guidance.Imagery: 'silence felt like a skill' evokes the idea of silence being something learned and practiced.Personification: 'silence starts to feel like identity' gives silence a human-like quality.Repetition: 'Be strong. Be steady. Be quiet.' emphasizes societal expectations.Alliteration: 'silence that behaves' uses the 's' sound to create rhythm.

شاعری کا تجزیہ

They never told me who I was.

Original Poetry

Translation

They never told me who I was.

They never told me who I was. They told me who I needed to be.

They told me who I had to be.

Be strong. Be stable. Be quiet.

Be strong.

Be steady.

I learned it so early that being silent felt like a talent before it felt like a burden.

Be quiet.

Being strong never felt like a choice — it felt like a duty. Like responsibility came first, and who I was had to follow.

And I learned it so early

that silence felt like a skill

I grew up without my father around. It wasn't a tragedy. It wasn't newsworthy. Just an absence that was always there and never explained.

before it ever felt like a cost.

I had to figure it out on my own.

Strength never felt chosen —

it felt assigned.

My mother took on both roles — gentle and firm, comforting and commanding. She raised me under a weight she never called heavy.

Like responsibility arrived first,

and identity had to catch up.

And my sisters — all four of them — taught me how to be strong before I even knew myself.

---

So I built myself instead - Like assembling manhood with missing instructions. I learned to carry burdens I didn't choose and called it growing up.

⭐ Father Absence

I learned to keep everything inside because no one ever told me what a boy can let go.

I grew up without my father there.

And in all that holding, I stopped asking what I needed and started practicing who I had to be.

Not a tragedy.

Not a headline.

Boys like me don’t break — we take it all in.

Just a space that stayed consistent

and never explained itself.

Until the burden feels normal and the silence feels deserved.

And I had to understand it

I learned to stand firm even when I felt defeated, to keep a straight face long after the cracks appeared.

without being told how.

They call it calm — but calm is just a habit you learn so young it becomes part of you.

---

I don’t talk much; once a truth is out, people start twisting it into their own version.

⭐ Mother + Sisters

So I keep my silence close, a space I’ve nurtured, where nothing acts, nothing spills, nothing is borrowed.

My mother carried both roles —

soft and stern,

I went to the movies alone. Not to escape — just to be without having to act.

comfort and command.

She raised me inside a weight

And something in that stillness changed, quietly, but enough to notice.

she never named as heavy.

What do you call it when a boy grows up and learns to turn pain into silence that behaves?

And my sisters —

four of them —

What do you call it when strength is just tiredness that never got the chance to rest?

taught me resilience

before I ever learned myself.

Some boys don’t fall apart loudly — they just stay composed long enough that silence becomes who they are.

---

And maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along… not becoming someone new, but getting better at disappearing into the shape I was told to fit.

⭐ Middle Emotional Punch

And what stays with me is this —

So I built myself instead-

I don’t know if the man I am now is who I became…

Like flat - pack masculinity with half the instructions missing.

I learned to carry things I never chose

or who I never stopped pretending to be.

and call it maturity.

I learned to swallow things whole

because nobody ever taught me

what a boy is allowed to put down.

And somewhere in all that holding,

I stopped asking what I needed

and started rehearsing who I had to be.

Boys like me don’t break —

we absorb.

Until the weight feels normal

and the silence feels earned.

---

⭐ Monorhyme Mask Section

I learned to hold my ground

even when I felt overthrown,

to keep my face composed

long after the cracks had shown.

They call it calm —

but calm is just a tone

you practise so young

it settles into your bone.

I don’t speak much;

once a truth is known,

people start shaping it

into something of their own.

So I keep my silence close,

a space I’ve grown,

where nothing performs,

nothing spills,

nothing is loaned.

---

⭐ Cinema Section

I went to the cinema alone.

Not to escape —

just to exist

without performing anything back.

And something in that stillness shifted,

quietly,

but enough to notice.

---

⭐ Question Section

What do you call it

when a boy grows up

and learns to translate pain

into silence that behaves?

What do you call it

when strength

is just exhaustion

that never got permission to stop?

---

⭐ Haunting Oxford‑Level Ending

Some boys don’t fall apart loudly —

they just stay composed long enough

that silence starts to feel like identity.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been doing all along…

not becoming something different,

but becoming better at disappearing

in the exact shape I was told to hold.

And the part that stays with me is this —

I don’t know if the man I am now

is who I became…

or who I never stopped pretending to be.

Explanation

Word Dictionary15

Word	Easy Meaning	Translation	Pron.
assigned	given	given a role or task	uh-sahynd
resilience	strength	ability to recover quickly	ri-zil-yuhns
masculinity	manliness	qualities associated with being male	mas-kyuh-lin-i-tee
composed	calm	calm and in control	kuhm-pohzd
identity	self	who someone is	ahy-den-ti-tee
performing	acting	acting or doing something	per-fawr-ming
exhaustion	tiredness	extreme tiredness	ig-zaws-chuhn
silence	quiet	absence of sound	sahy-luhns
stern	strict	serious and strict	sturn
translate	convert	change into another form	trans-leyt
behaves	acts	acts in a certain way	bi-heyvz
consistency	regularity	being the same over time	kuhn-sis-tuhn-see
rehearsing	practicing	practicing repeatedly	ri-hurs-ing
absorb	take in	take in or soak up	ab-sawrb
calm	peaceful	peaceful and quiet	kahm

Poet & Context

Poet—

EraContemporary

The poet's identity is not specified, and the poem appears to be a contemporary work reflecting on themes of identity, masculinity, and family dynamics.

WhenContemporary

FormFree verse

Themes & More

Themes

IdentityMasculinityFamily DynamicsSilenceStrength

Literary devices