What Made Me Me

They taught me caution

was the definition of survival.

I was afraid to breathe.

So I learned to breathe carefully.

They taught me silence was

the answer to my fears.

I was afraid to love.

So I learned to hate.

They took what made me me

And carved me into a thousand pieces.

I was afraid to cry,

So I learned to laugh.

They mistook my silence

for surrender.

I was afraid to shine,

So I learned to sing.

I made myself smaller

So they could feel bigger.

I cut.

I buried.

I hid.

I ran.

I was afraid to live.

So I learned to survive.

And survival became my strength.

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