This Is How I Burn

She smokes lies like cigarettes and wears her trauma like war paint.
They call her the freak, the cautionary tale, the girl who's already gone.

But they don't know her.
Not the way the dark does.

This Is How I Burn is a raw, unflinching scream from the back of the classroom. It's for the girls who flinch when doors slam. The ones who sleep with one eye open. The ones who learned too early that love can hurt worse than fists.

She's not looking to be saved. She just wants to feel real.