Art Work: She Fights by WH
When I feel all alone,
I wish I weren’t.
“Just call.”
“I’m here.”
But you’re not.
You wouldn’t want
what comes with me—
the weight,
the sadness
that doesn’t wash off.
I talk.
Too much, maybe.
Express. Repress.
Repeat.
Would it help
if I said less?
“I’m sorry… but.”
“I wish I could… but.”
They say
what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
But must it hurt this much?
And what if
one day,
it does?
I won’t let this be
just another victim story.
But I’ll be damned
if they claim
any piece
of my healing,
my light,
my rise.
No.
That belongs to me—
and the Universe with me
that stayed
when no one else did.
I am broken-
But I am not Alone.
I have ME. Badass ME.
And, “we” are AN ARMY
that will not run from the fight.
.