They call me defensive.
They call me aggressive.
They call me unpredictable.
As if survival is a crime.
As if standing for my truth is hostility.
As if refusing to be small is chaos.
I am defensive because every hand that should have held me hit me instead.
Because every voice that should have loved me spoke betrayal and silence.
I am aggressive because I have fought to breathe when the world pressed me to my last gasp.
Because I have clawed through pain ignored by systems, dismissed by the people who were meant to protect me.
I am unpredictable because trauma does not follow rules, because fire does not stay still. Because I have had to learn to survive in a world that refused to see me.
They see a flash of my anger and call it hostility. They see a wall of defence and call it stubbornness. They see me rise from ashes and call it too much.
I have been a child in care
I have been beaten to my last breath.
I have grown up in a system that could not see the truth because it chose its own story over reality.
I have lived in the cracks of assumptions and survived the spaces they said I could not.
I have carried every failure inflicted on me, every injustice ignored, and I am still here.
So yes, I am defensive.
Yes, I am aggressive.
Yes, I am unpredictable.
But these labels are not the fire in my chest.
They are not the strength in my hands.
They are not the love I carry for my child, nor the loyalty I hold for those who truly saved me.
I am fire.
I am survival.
I am the voice that refused to be silenced.
I am the truth they could not erase.
I am rise.
I am rise.
I am rise.
— Anonymous _Flame 🔥
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 4:52 AM UTC
They call me defensive.
They call me aggressive.
They call me unpredictable.
As if survival is a crime.
As if standing for my truth is hostility.
As if refusing to be small is chaos.
I am defensive because every hand that should have held me hit me instead.
Because every voice that should have loved me spoke betrayal and silence.
I am aggressive because I have fought to breathe when the world pressed me to my last gasp.
Because I have clawed through pain ignored by systems, dismissed by the people who were meant to protect me.
I am unpredictable because trauma does not follow rules, because fire does not stay still. Because I have had to learn to survive in a world that refused to see me.
They see a flash of my anger and call it hostility. They see a wall of defence and call it stubbornness. They see me rise from ashes and call it too much.
I have been a child in care
I have been beaten to my last breath.
I have grown up in a system that could not see the truth because it chose its own story over reality.
I have lived in the cracks of assumptions and survived the spaces they said I could not.
I have carried every failure inflicted on me, every injustice ignored, and I am still here.
So yes, I am defensive.
Yes, I am aggressive.
Yes, I am unpredictable.
But these labels are not the fire in my chest.
They are not the strength in my hands.
They are not the love I carry for my child, nor the loyalty I hold for those who truly saved me.
I am fire.
I am survival.
I am the voice that refused to be silenced.
I am the truth they could not erase.
I am rise.
I am rise.
I am rise.
— Anonymous _Flame 🔥
This poem is for anyone who has been labeled “too much” for simply surviving, for standing up, for protecting what is real in their life. Defensive. Aggressive. Unpredictable. These aren’t flaws—they are shields, they are fire, they are truth. If you’ve ever been misunderstood because you refused to shrink, this is for you: your survival is your strength, and your fire is unstoppable.
