the kid watched,
wide-eyed,
no questions, no judgment—
just the kind of curiosity
you only see in something
still whole.

but she broke her,
taught her how to bleed
for forgiveness,
to trade dreams
for punishment
and call it love.

those scars turned her
into something sharp,
a fighter, maybe—
but the fight wasn’t hers.
it was always for scraps
of affection,
a glance,
a *******
"you’re enough."