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Their words fall sharp, like shards of glass,
Carving wounds that never pass.
A glance, a shove, a whispered sting—
They strip away my everything.
Each day I wear a fragile mask,
To hide the questions I can't ask:
Why me? Why now? What did I do,
To make their world a target too?
The laughter echoes in my ears,
A symphony of silent fears.
I shrink, I fold, I try to blend,
But find no shelter in pretend.
Yet deep within, a spark remains,
Surviving all their cruel refrains.
They may not see, but I still stand—
With every scar, I'll lift my hand.
For there's a strength they'll never know,
A hidden fire that starts to grow.
Their words may bruise, but they won't break
The soul that rises in their wake.
So let them throw their hollow stones,
I'll build a fortress from their bones.
For I am more than they believe,
And I will rise; I will not grieve.
Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ・ω ι т ¢ н α χ я ι α・ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ
