Tailored to withstand the storm that you were.
Laid broken, confused to witness the hate in your heart.
The hands that beat me down, were the hands that picked me up.
The challenge was trying to figure out how to avoid all this hurt.
Paranoid that I’d never escape your inflicted torture.
Shards of glass catching light, that’s all you’ll see glimmer—
Because I don't have hope anymore.
The challenge was trying to believe I had the strength to leave.
Which I did & you tried so hard to make me concede.
I fought to pick myself up & carry the little bit I had left of me.
Convincing myself, I didn't deserve that life or your brutality.
The challenge is, I’m reminded that I’ll never be the person I use to be.
Once you feel hate, it takes over & lives within you, for eternity.
Tears trickling down my face,
as glimmers of hope remind me
of what I overcame.
The challenge is, finding it possible forgive you for your evil deeds.
Tailored to withstand any storm or shortcomings.
Laid broken, I‘m not—
For I will never allow someone to clip my wings.
The hands that pick me up, now hold me lovingly.
The challenge is, ill never forget what you’ve done to me— but, damnit my life is good, finally.