Your hands force themselves over my mouth. You scream that you're tired of the sound of my voice. You tell me that women who keep silent are more appealing than the monster I am. I smile and say I wasn't born to be like those women.
I did not come out of my mother's womb quietly. I shook the earth with my cries of rejoice. I was not made to be silent. I was not made to be brought to my knees. I was born with lightning in my eyes, thunder crackling in my voice and a storm brewing in my belly. I was born with a fire and it will never be put out by anyone, especially you.
YOU ARE READING
Beautifully Scarred
PoetryBeautifully Scarred is a collection of poems or prose that highlights the hardest parts in life that not everyone is willing to admit or talk about. It is a safe place to crack open the most difficult and raw experiences to showcase that you are not...
