You watch us move, you judge, you stare,
Call it paranoia, call it fear, call it unfair.
But you don’t see the nights we’ve known,
The battles fought when we were alone.
Our instincts aren’t choice, they’re fire in our veins,
A map of survival carved from pains.
We scan, we pause, we brace for the worst,
Because life has taught us, and we rehearsed.
You read the books, you take the courses,
But shadows live beyond your forces.
You’ll never know the heat, the fight,
Of learning to survive through endless night.
And yet, still, you label, still, you shame,
Still punish the vigilance you cannot name.
We are hardwired, instinctive, and true,
The world misunderstands—but we make it through.
Mar 8
Mar 8, 2026 at 1:17 PM UTC
You watch us move, you judge, you stare,
Call it paranoia, call it fear, call it unfair.
But you don’t see the nights we’ve known,
The battles fought when we were alone.
Our instincts aren’t choice, they’re fire in our veins,
A map of survival carved from pains.
We scan, we pause, we brace for the worst,
Because life has taught us, and we rehearsed.
You read the books, you take the courses,
But shadows live beyond your forces.
You’ll never know the heat, the fight,
Of learning to survive through endless night.
And yet, still, you label, still, you shame,
Still punish the vigilance you cannot name.
We are hardwired, instinctive, and true,
The world misunderstands—but we make it through.
This poem is for survivors who are judged and misunderstood. Our vigilance and instincts aren’t flaws—they’re survival. What you don’t see is the fire, the fight, and the battles we’ve endured.
