RAISED BY STORMS, STILL STANDING

They call it love, but love shouldn’t bruise, Shouldn’t echo like slammed doors in your chest, Shouldn’t feel like walking on glass Just to earn a moment of rest. I built my life in quiet corners, Counting on peace like it was owed, Tracing futures in trembling hands Every dream a carefully chosen road. But fate laughed low in the background, Unraveling plans thread by thread, And the ones who should’ve been shelter Turned into storms inside my head. Their words don’t fade they settle in, A permanent whisper beneath my skin, Telling me I’ll never be more Than the version of me they trapped within. And God, it hurts when blood feels cold, When “home” is just a word you fake, When every step toward something better Feels like another thing they’ll break. Still… in the ruins of who I was, There’s something they couldn’t destroy A quiet defiance, bruised but breathing, A soul that refuses to be their void. ...✒️