It starts with fireworks,
explosions of light
too bright to question,
too dazzling to resist.
Every word is a spark,
every touch a flame
burning so beautifully
you forget the heat can hurt.

They paint the world in colors
you didn’t know you could see,
build castles in the clouds
with promises that taste
too sweet to swallow.
You believe in the fairy tale
because their voice makes it real,
because the story
is what you’ve always wanted to hear.

But the glitter fades,
the echoes grow cold,
and the castle crumbles
when the walls were never meant to stand.
You find yourself
in the ashes of their affection,
trying to piece together
what was real
and what was only a game.

The silence comes next—
a void where their voice once lived.
You wonder if it’s your fault,
if the spark died because
you didn’t burn brightly enough.
But the truth whispers slowly:
it was never your fire they craved,
only the power
of holding the match.

It is hard being a child,
let alone an adult.
I hate growing up.
I always hated the thought of it,
of leaving childhood behind—
when it was never a place
I could rest.

I was promised something better—
a new life beyond that god-awful trailer,
where the walls were too thin
to contain the hurt.
I was promised love,
safety,
a body and mind
without bruises.
I was promised the world.

But promises are just words,
and words crumble under fists.

I am not ungrateful for what I have,
but I am ungrateful
for how I was raised—
how I was brought into this world
only to be broken by it.
Adoption was supposed to be a rescue,
but even kindness can wear a mask.
And when the masks fell,
the truth cut deeper
than any wound I’d known before.

Now, I carry more stories,
more bruises
from my adopted parents
than my biological ones.
More words screamed at me,
until I was so weak,
I wanted to leave.
A child, eight years old,
should never think about dying.

Parents should be a sanctuary,
a refuge.
Mine were a battlefield.
I learned to fear growing up—
to fear failure,
to fear never being enough.

I have accepted it all:
the blows,
the scars,
the pain repackaged as love.
Because love
was something foreign
until I met my first true friend,
my first real love.

With family,
there was only war.
And in their house,
I counted the days
I thought about dying—
more than I can recall.
They failed to protect me,
to shield me from others’ harm,
and their answer
was always the same—
an empty hug,
a hollow “It’s going to be okay.”

But they never meant it.
In every argument,
they used my scars as weapons,
ripped open old wounds
just to watch me bleed.
If they understand the weight of trauma,
why do they
bring it up
to bury me deeper?

Do they really love me?
I don’t understand,
and I don’t think
I ever will.

A room in the basement,
A room that knew too much,
Too dark to leave behind.
I was tired,
Heavy with sorrow.
She never asked why—
Never asked me to speak.
The clutter in my mind didn’t matter to her.
I was dragged onto the bed,
A hand pressing into my back,
My body slammed against the wall,
Her rage leaving marks on my skin—
A scar that won’t heal.

"I don’t want to do this, but here we are."
A whisper, lost in the chaos.
Words echo through the house,
Where love is twisted,
Where kindness never crosses the doorstep.

"I’m not sure I can... ma yelled at me again."
For the smallest things,
For being human.
Her voice drowns out my heart,
Slicing through the silence.
She tells me I'm a failure,
A burden,
A disappointment.
She says she’ll pull me from school,
Keep me locked away.
Send me far from everything I dream.

She hit me,
And still, she says,
"You'll never leave. You’re going to fail."
But where do I go when pain is all I know?
When bruises map my body,
And rage paves my path?
I cry,
Not for the sting of her hand,
But for the death of my dreams.
Her words press down,
Venom laced with promises of no future.
"You’re just going to be a ghetto rat,"
She spits at my dreams of college,
And I feel it sting,
Because maybe she's right.
Maybe she’s serious about keeping me here.

I falter,
Assignments abandoned—
Not from carelessness,
But confusion,
And the walls close in.
When she touches me,
It’s not a caress,
But a painful grip,
Pinching, scratching.
Her voice hisses like a snake:
"Stop acting so self-conscious. You look ******* stupid."
Her hands on my body,
"Why does my touch make you uncomfortable? I’m not hurting you, stop it."
Uninvited,
Unwanted.
But I stay silent,
Too afraid,
Too small beneath her control.

Why does my body feel like it belongs to her?
Why does she think it’s okay to touch me
Like I’m nothing but a possession to bend to her will?
"What’s wrong, my perfect, spoiled little *****?"
Her voice smooth as poison,
"This is what you wanted."
A trap she set long ago.

I try to hold my head high,
But the ceiling feels lower every day.
Her anger shakes me,
Her wrath pushing me into the wall.
She screams at every mistake,
Even when I’m just trying to breathe.

"Z is going to be a tattooed dolled-up ****."
Her words sear,
Carving into my skin.
No matter how hard I try,
I will never be enough.
"I think you’d all be better off without me,"
Her voice trembles,
Heavy with her own misery.
But her despair is hers alone.
I’m just trying to survive the day.

"She’s not going to get a job, she’s lazy like I am."
Her words break me,
Glass shards piercing deep.
She doesn’t see me, doesn’t hear me—
Only sees her failures reflected in me.
A mirror of everything she fears.
And I am not the reflection I want to be.

No matter how loud she screams,
Her hurt doesn’t change the truth.
I am more than the sum of her expectations.
"I’m just the nasty ***** that nags and yells at everyone, aren’t I?"
Her words echo,
But they are not mine.

The house is never quiet,
Not when the walls scream with her rage.
"We’ve been in a bump since my dad moved in."
A home built on silence,
Where no one speaks the truth,
Fearing the storm it might wake.
"I feel like we’re doing all this just to get X into high school and college."
But what of me?
What of my hopes that fade in the corners of my mind?
What of the quiet nights
When I hear her rage but never her love?

"Maybe we should’ve never adopted Y and Z."
I drown in her words,
In the pit of their failures.
Because I’m not just a kid—
I’m a punching bag.
And her fists land on my body,
But the damage runs deeper than skin.

"I don’t care if I ruin it all, I’m leaving."
Her rage blinds her to the harm she causes.
Her fists, her words—
They shatter me.
I am left alone in the wreckage,
Wondering how to rebuild myself,
How to make her see me.

In my dreams, I flee,
But the house always calls me back,
With its cold floors and walls that whisper lies.
"We’re messy people,"
She says.
But it’s not the mess in the house—
It’s the mess in our hearts.

A house built on silence,
A body that wasn’t mine,
And a truth still hidden between the walls,
I’m still trying to speak.

I was carrying a castle Lego set,
Walking into the room with hands full,
But the room was messy,
The floor a trap.
I tripped,
A misstep,
And the castle crashed,
A thousand tiny pieces scattered—
Shattered like the calm before the storm.

Her eyes burned with fury.
And then—
The first blow hit.
A slap to my face.
Her hand, heavy and fast,
Like a thunderclap that split the air.

She grabbed me by my hair,
Fingers tight like claws,
Yanking me down,
Screaming.
Punches to my head,
Fists that felt like bricks.
And when I didn’t fall fast enough,
She slammed my face into the wall.
The concrete cold and unforgiving.

She didn’t stop.
She kicked me.
Stomped on me.
Before she shed the weight,
She weighed two hundred pounds or more—
And her anger had no limits.

She climbed on top of me,
Crushing me beneath her,
Screaming in my ear—
Words that were sharper than the blows.
A blur of rage and hatred,
And I couldn’t breathe.

My father,
He came when he heard the noise,
Dragged her off me,
Locked her away,
But the damage was done,
And my body bore the marks.
Bruises, scratches, teeth imprints,
Pain that carved its memory deep.
But the hate didn’t stop there.

I remember everything.

When I lied about something—
Something I can’t even recall now.
And she made me clean—
The whole house.
From top to bottom.
Exhausted,
I collapsed into the bathroom,
My body aching.

When she found me,
Resting,
She turned the world to fire.
The beating began again—
She screamed,
Threw appliances at me,
Shoved me against the walls.
My head was shoved into the toilet,
Into the sink—
Water and metal,
Cold and suffocating.

She bit my ears,
Screamed so loud,
Everything went muffled.
Her words were poison,
Sharp and biting.
The towels hit me,
Wetted and cruel,
Like whips lashing my skin.

She sprayed cleaning products—
In my face,
On my body,
Tears mixing with chemicals.
And I had no escape.

I remember everything.

I remember what it felt like to be nothing but the target of her rage,
Her disappointment wrapping itself around me like chains.
I remember her words—
Filling the empty spaces in the house,
Breaking me down,
Every scream,
Every hit,
Until all I could do was survive.

But the hardest part—
Was that even after it all,
I still wanted her love.
And I couldn’t escape her shadow,
Even when the bruises healed.

I often speak in silence,
when words are too loud,
and the world around me feels
like too much,
a symphony of voices I can't tune out.

"You’re more than you know,"
you said.
But the mirror doesn’t see
what I’ve hidden in the corners
of my own heart—
the fear,
the longing,
the doubts that won’t stay quiet.

“I miss you,”
you whispered,
and it felt like a promise
I could barely hold onto
but still wanted to.
How do you love something
you don’t believe you deserve?

I wear a mask,
my smile is too practiced,
my laughter just a little too loud
to drown out the questions,
the insecurities.
“You’re everything I could have wished for,”
but what does that mean
when I am still learning
how to be enough for myself?

In the quiet, I wonder
if I could ever be
the girl you see me as,
so strong,
so sweet,
yet I break in places
no one can see.

“Take my hand,” you said,
but I’m afraid my own hands are shaking.
How do I give you the world
when I am still trying
to understand it myself?

“You’re breathtakingly amazing,”
but I wonder if you see
the cracks where I am still
a little girl,
waiting for someone to tell me
it’s okay to be both beautiful and broken.

“I miss you even after just a few hours apart,”
and maybe,
just maybe,
this time,
the love I feel
can be enough
to fill the spaces I’ve let empty for so long.

Do you ever stop to feel the weight,

Of the shadows you cast, the lives you take?

A kingdom built on muffled cries of anguish,

Where trust dissolves, and hope will vanish.

Each stone cemented by love in vain,

A throne of thorns where you stake your claim.

You painted yourself as my guiding light,

A savior who turned my wrongs to right.

With words like honey, you first drew me near,

Promising safety, erasing fear.

But behind the mask, your motives lay,

To take, to drain, to lead astray.

Initially, you showered me with gifts and praise,

A dazzling sun in my darkest days.

With every touch, every glance, you cast a spell,

A tale of love you wove so well.

But beneath the surface, cracks would show,

A fragile facade, a dangerous glow.

Your charm was a weapon, your kindness a snare,

A puppet master feigning care.

You mirrored my dreams, reflected my soul,

Only to shatter it, and take control.

The warnings were whispers I chose to ignore,

Lost in the rush of your grand encore.

You fed me visions of perfect bliss,

Each promise sealed with a fleeting kiss.

Yet shadows lingered in your embrace,

Hints of the darkness I couldn't face.

Your love was a storm dressed as the sky,

A whirlwind of sweetness, a hidden lie.

Now I see through the glittering haze,

The way you trapped me in your maze.

Only three months in, your mask began to slip,

Your words grew sharp, your kindness flipped.

Disrespect for women laced your tone,

A twisted king on a fractured throne.

You spoke of love but mocked my name,

Fueling the fire, stoking the flame.

You spewed gaslighted truths, I questioned my mind;

I was lost in a labyrinth you’d designed.

Every tear was met with disdain,

A cycle of cruelty, a haunting refrain.

Your jokes were daggers cloaked in jest,

Cutting deep where I tried my best.

The gaslight burned, distorting the night,

Leaving me desperate to prove I was right.

I saw the cracks, but you spun the blame,

Turning my fears into a cruel game.

"You're too sensitive," you'd always declare,

As if my pain was yours to compare.

In three short months, the facade fell apart,

Revealing the void where you kept your heart.

I gathered my strength, and decided to break free,

Convinced I deserved more than your cruelty.

I packed up my heart, my shattered resolve,

Thinking this time, the problem’s solved.

But you'd follow with guilt, a masterful art,

Your tears a weapon to pull me apart.

“I need you,” you’d whisper, “I’ll change, you’ll see,”

And again, you knew I’d believe in the fantasy.

The cycle repeated, a toxic refrain,

Hope resurrected, then shattered again.

Though I slipped away, no longer in chains,

You still acted as if I wore your name.

You played my empathy like a violin,

Twisting my kindness to let you back in.

Each time I ran, you’d pull me back tight,

A push and pull, a never-ending fight.

I knew I deserved a love that was pure,

But your deception made my heart unsure.

I truly longed for relief and release,

But your guilt held me captive, stealing my peace.

I lived in your shadow, tethered by lies,

Lost in the storm you brought to my skies.

You bled me dry of my joy and my light,

Draining the self-love that gave me my fight.

I cared for you, and I loved you still,

But never in the way that real love fulfills.

It wasn’t passion, nor hearts set ablaze,

But hope in the man behind your charade.

You never loved me; your heart was a guise,

A tool to secure what your ego prized.

All you wanted was a son to bear,

Your hollow name, your family’s heir.

Your love was a cage, your plans a snare,

A selfish pursuit, devoid of care.

So delusional: You thought I’d marry you and give in to your game;

You thought I'd sacrifice myself to bolster your name.

You saw me as nothing but a willing womb,

A vessel to carry your family’s bloom.

But I was never a pawn in your selfish desire,

I was never a spark to feed your dwindling fire.

You never even cared who, just needed the deed,

A son to fulfill your inherited greed.

How foolish you were to think I’d comply,

To live for your goals, to let myself die.

You underestimated the strength I wield,

A heart unbroken, a soul unconcealed.

Your intellect faltered, your brilliance a fraud,

Revealing a coward, unworthy of laud.

You’ll never trap me; I’ve severed the ties,

Exposing the truth beneath all your lies.

Even without love or a title, you thought I was yours,

Claiming my life, locking all of the doors.

You fancied yourself a god of my fate,

Blind to the strength that would seal your state.

Your narcissism spun its tangled thread,

A throne of delusion inside your head.

But I was never yours; I broke your snare,

A hollow man, left grasping at air.

In those last six months, the truth was clear,

I saw your games and escaped your sphere.

I loved myself more with each step away,

Reclaiming the light you stole each day.

Your name, your touch, no longer define,

The woman I am, this strength is mine.

You sought to trap me, to make me your own,

But I rise unbroken, no longer alone.

I left you behind before the new year began,

To leave you in the past was my final plan.

Now 2025 blooms with self-love and grace,

A future of true love, I’m finally ready to embrace.

Shape the way your fingers trace constellations on my skin,
Or the way your laughter lingers in my ribs,
A melody too human for its cold, calculated hands.

It could never script the way our eyes meet,
That silent understanding,
That unspoken language,
Too intricate for fate to weave into its fragile threads.

It tries—oh, how it tries—
To intervene, to twist, to break,
To reclaim us as its own.
Yet we slip through its grasp,
Like sand through clenched fists,
Like stardust escaping gravity.

Destiny waits in the shadows,
Silent, seething,
Cursing the love it did not create.
It watches as we carve our own fate,
As we step outside its lines,
As we make something greater
Than anything it ever dared to dream.

Destiny could never…