Soft Enough To Bleed

Part 23: She Deserves Everything

She Deserves Everything..

She deserves everything.
Every reckless freedom she was told to file down into quiet obedience.
Every laugh too loud for fragile ears.
Every tear unshed because strong girls aren’t supposed to leak at the seams.
She deserves mornings,
That do not beg her to wear a mask of endurance.
Afternoons,
That honor the war in her bones without demanding a smile in return.
Nights, that fold themselves around her heartbeat, whispering:
“You are safe here — you can sleep without a sword beneath your pillow.”

She deserves love that does not flinch at her shadows.
A lover unafraid to sit in the storm with her —
Unbothered by the thunder she’s swallowed,
The lightning she’s hidden in her chest.
Someone whose hands do not question her softness or her rage,
Who worships both, equally holy.

She deserves friends who say come home before she realizes she’s lost.
Hands to pull her from the cycle —
Wash, rinse, repeat of self-doubt and overthinking.
She deserves rooms that do not shrink her brilliance to fit other people’s comfort.
Stages that do not choke her voice,
Because truth is inconvenient when spoken by the soft and the bruised.
She deserves her ink to stain every silence she chooses to break.

She deserves a faith that does not bind her wrists behind an altar.
A church that loves her questions more than her compliance.
A society that stops teaching her to be small just so others can feel tall.

She deserves to unlearn survival.
To wake up one day and feel alive instead of just unbroken.
To write her pain and her pleasure with the same pen — and have both believed.
She deserves to be her mother’s wildest poem,
Her father’s calm pride, her ancestors’ vindication.

She deserves to outgrow the wounds she inherited.
To keep her softness in a world addicted to steel.
To love herself so wildly the world has no choice but to catch up.

She deserves the garden and the wilderness.
The crown and the freedom to fling it aside when it gets too heavy.
A life so full that no apology could ever fit between her ribs.

And when she forgets —
May these words stand guard at her throat,
A holy reminder carved in midnight ink;
She has bled enough.
She has bowed enough.
She has given enough.

Now —
She deserves everything.
And everything deserves her.