The bravest are the ones who stand up for themselves.
They are my friends, known and unknown, who are made to feel small.
And they feel every blow as it hits them,
as it tears through their spirit,
through everything they thought they were -
And then they let their roots be planted and regrown in tainted ground,
re-learn corner by corner of this once home,
until the walls are no longer monsters, waiting to jump out and attack --
take it back for themselves.

And shielding others is one thing, but standing up for your self -
Standing up for yourself, there are paper thin walls.
Standing up for yourself, you have everything left to lose.

And yet they stand, on their own two feet,
perhaps trembling, perhaps crying, perhaps desperately wanting to hide,
but still they stand and say, "You have done me wrong."
Say, "This was not something I deserved."
And the strength grows back into their bones like armor,
this new, beautiful, unwavering, shield of courage,
that never should have been taken away.