"Not Yours to Tame"

I was soft once, all petals and peace— hoping they'd love me if I just stayed quiet. But silence became chains, and kindness, a leash. They spoke of dignity as if it was mine to lose— when all I did was exist in skin they chose to bruise. A skirt became my sin, their shame draped on me thin, but I am not what they see— I am what they’ll never win. I’m not a mirror for their guilt. Not a body to fold, or a girl to be built into the shape that fits their mold. Let them stare. Let them spit. Let them call it “protection” while they tighten the grip. Because I’m done whispering. Done bowing. Done bending. My body is not your battleground— and this war? It’s ending. So speak if you must, but I won’t dim down again. This fire is mine. And I am not yours to tame.