You were taught to hush your screams until you lost want,  

to speak only in shadows when pressed to say,  

to carry your silence train through corridors of haunt,  

and believe your voice deserved to be cast away.

You learned to measure worth by the smallness of less,  

fearing your hunger would drown out your seed,  

you built yourself on foundations of mess,  

and believed to need a fast track to bleed.

In each mirror you saw the same whisper of shame,  

your boundaries caged in barbed wire and bind,  

you blamed every flaw as the guilt’s hollow name,  

and prayed that perfection you somehow would find.

We carried our terror like baggage at night,  

silent prayers we recited to steer,  

our body’s alarm kept us primed for the fight,  

because serenity felt too distant, not clear.

Now I carve out a space where at last I can be free,  

I place stepping stones on my soft, healing ground,  

I reclaim the right to hunger for air just as me,  

and rejoice in each step I have finally found.

My borders now rise like constellations in skies,  

I honor the years you ignored your own soul,  

I sever the chains that bound truth with old ties,  

and pledge to hold dear each fragment once stolen.