Resurrection

You drew me in at my darkest hour—

lost, discarded, forgotten.

You weaponized the secrets I confided

to invade my heart and body.

You saw a fragile soul

and twisted it for your pleasure,

mishandling what was already broken.

Your charm was poison,

your words a lure,

your touch a trap disguised as safety.

You groomed me.

I was young, delicate,

just beginning to know love,

just beginning to believe I was worthy of being seen.

I was told you were safe—

but you were anything but.

You laid me down and devoured my soul.

“Nap time,” you called it.

You stripped me of dignity,

tore through the fabric of my being,

and left me to bleed.

You wielded the power gifted to you by community,

and you turned it to malice.

You are the demon,

the shadow,

the embodiment of everything vile.

For decades you planted in me

the belief that I was unworthy—

that at fourteen, not yet a woman,

I had somehow failed you.

You berated and abused me.

You shattered what was already fragile.

But your reign did not last.

A light broke through the shadow—

my angel on earth,

my living salvation—

who reached into the pit

and pulled me from your darkness.

Still, I see your face—

that crooked smile,

those wicked eyes—

etched into the deepest wounds

that shape my existence.

But hear me now:

Your shadow will not define me.

The blood you drew has become ink,

the wounds you carved are my testament.

I rise from the grave you dug

and write your name into the fire.

Your foundation of lies has crumbled.

I stand on its ruins, unbroken.

You called it nap time—

I call it the day the darkness opened

and pulled you under.

Your name will rot in the ashes of memory.

Your burden will weigh on you until your final breath.

It is yours to carry.

Never mine again.