You might have hit me, but you never knocked me down. I may have dented me but I never broke.
I guess it made you feel like a man when you pushed me around. But you were just a child with a temper.
You made me live a life of blame and lies.
Raising your fists and your voice, and giving me scars and shame, but in the end I rose like fire out of a bed of ashes.
According to you, I wasn’t so tough when I was laying on the bathroom floor but I believe I proved my strength when I walked out that door and never came back. I took back my soul and raised my expectations for a man.
I took back what was mine and I left you behind.
It truly was the beatings that made me wise, and the truth that set me free. I wasn’t about to be killed by that thing that you called “love”.
I started to see things clearer once you were in my rearview mirror. Now I see that it was you and not me.
I took back my life and learned how to be selfish for once. How to demand the treatment that I deserve, how to be a princess instead of a punching bag.
It is possible for me to be loved, despite what you told me.
You’ll never hurt me again. I never have to ask your permission to live my life again. I don’t have to be full of secrets anymore. Telling the truth is no longer like swallowing sand.
You can’t hit me, hurt me, control me, threaten my life, or physically, mentally or sexually abuse me anymore.
You made me a warrior and a survivor, but you made yourself nothing but a worthless liar.
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