You tried to bury me
but you weren’t deep enough
You tried to silence me
but my lungs learned thunder
You tried to break me
but I was built out of stubborn stars
I walked through fire
with blistered feet
and still carved my name
into the sky
I am not your damage.
I am not your secret.
I am not the quiet you built
with your cruelty
I am the proof that you failed.
Every scar is a sentence
you didn’t get to finish writing
Every breath I take
is a door you can’t lock
I learned how to stitch myself together
with shaking hands
and rebel light
I learned how to become
my own safe place
my own protector
my own damn hero
You gave me hell
but you did not give me permission
to stay there
Now I bite back at the dark
Now I dance on trauma’s throat
Now I speak the words
that once would have killed me
I survived you.
And that is your greatest failure.
My body is no longer
your battleground
It is a temple
built on refusal
and revolution
I am not a victim.
I am an ending
to your cycle
I am a beginning
you don’t get to touch
Say my name now
and know
it belongs
only
to me.