They taught me how to kneel

before they taught me how to stand.

Taught me “obedience”

before they taught me “enough.”

Told me I was chosen—

then chose my silence

over my safety.

My submission

over my soul.

So I left.

Yes, I left.

I didn’t tiptoe.

I ran.

With matches in my teeth

and my own name finally sharp

on my tongue.