I realized I was turning into a boy,
When my sadness turned into anger —
The sight of my own bleeding knuckles
And marks on the wall scaring me.

I realized my soul had gotten louder,
When my sorrow turned into rage —
The thought of becoming the version she would've feared, once again terrifying me,
Knowing she's too vulnerable for this imagery.

I realized I was changing into myself,
When I remembered my fury was once called depression —
Becoming the wound
And not the wounded became my worst nightmare.