You don’t break me

You were supposed to be my shelter…

You became my storm.

I was a child searching your eyes for protection

Found storms, rejection, emotional infections

Every scream echoed deep in my bones

Every night I felt more alone

You chose his lies over my tears

Chose his comfort over my fears

I learned early love could betray

That “home” could be somewhere you pray to escape

Bruises invisible, silence loud

I carried pain you never allowed

You called me dramatic, called me wrong

I was just a kid trying to hold on

You stood beside the one who broke me

Then wondered why the world felt cold to me

I wasn’t weak — I was surviving

While you were busy denying.

You didn’t break me — you made me fight

You tried to dim me, I became light

I screamed inside for years at night

But I’m still standing, still upright

You gave me pain, I forged a spine

You gave me darkness, I learned to shine

I am not the damage you designed

I’m the survivor you couldn’t define.

I forgive for me, not for you

Because I refuse to carry what you threw

Forgiveness ain’t forgetting scars

It’s knowing I outgrew your wars

I was a child begging to be heard

You were a storm drowning my words

Now I’m a voice you can’t erase

A truth you can’t replace.

You didn’t break me — you built my will

I climbed mountains you tried to kill

I am stronger, louder still

A heart you never could distill

You are my past — not my frame

I survived the flame.