They wanted me small.

Quiet.

Bent into apology.

They wanted me wrecked.

Wanted the pain

to be permanent—

a scar that said:

“They won.”

But I don’t bleed like that anymore.

Now, I blossom.

Now, I walk into rooms

like I was never broken.

Now, I laugh

like a threat.

Joy

is my revenge.

Every smile