When voices turn into weapons,
when the silent night becomes a battleground,
I clutch my sibling closer with trembling hands,
as if I could be their strongest wall.
The voices tear pieces out of me,
yet I never let go of my little one—
hoping they never become like me,
hoping they never mistake love for a toxic trait.
But the echoes linger in my ears,
taunting, mocking, laughing at me.
They leave bruises no one can see,
shadows where the light should be.
And still,
I stitch a smile across my face,
bright enough to hide the wreckage—
so the world only sees a sister protecting,
never the child who is breaking.
(FOR ALL THOSE WHO GREW UP STRONG A LITTLE TOO FAST AND PROTECT THE LITTLE HEARTS AT COST OF THEIRS...WHOSE HEARTS BEAR WHAT EYES CAN\'T SEE.)
-REBELLIOUS SOUL.