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In the quiet of a small room,
she learned to hide behind walls,
her mother’s voice, a storm,
thunderous with anger,
cutting deep like winter winds,
chill casting shadows on her soft skin—
a fragile flower buried in heavy snow.

Each morning brought a new weight,
the scale of love turned heavy with hate.
Whispers wrapped around her heart:
“You're worthless.”
And while smiles flickered like lights,
her days felt like ice breaking underfoot.

A fragile bond stitched with fear,
the touch meant to comfort,
often bruised the skin,
trust broke like old glass,
leaving shards to press into her soul.
Days of silence soaked up her laughter,
replaced with the echo of screamed words,
and nights laid heavy with tears.

Then came a vehicle of change,
a door swung open with hope,
her father, arms extended,
promised warmth in renewed light,
but in the forward motion, the shadows lingered—
his wife stepped into their lives,
a glance, a sneer—
her words quick and sharp, like broken ribs.
“More trouble than you’re worth,”
she’d say, cold and cruel.
In a house with only bones,
the girl learned to shrink,
folding herself into curves to fit where light didn’t fall.

Time stretched on, days blended bitter,
as walls closed in with every tick of the clock;
the burdens amassed, restless,
one dark corner became too loud,
the echo of her heart forgotten,
drowned by the voices that shouted, boxed her in,
and whispered night’s embrace felt the cold sting of steel.

What do you do with all that hurt?
With the pieces of a soul so torn?
The girl sought to fly, but the world kept pulling,
gripping tighter as hope slipped like water,
everyday laughter now a distant echo,
a ghost she chased but could not catch.

One last heavy breath,
the final ache released into the night,
when the absences weighed too much,
the silence grew unbearable,
and she finally found her peace,
in the stillness that followed,
in a deep, dark sleep—
the last escape—a whisper, a goodbye.

A flicker in the dark tells her story,
worthless child no longer,
their words turning to ashes.
If only they'd seen her light,
carried her pain, offered relief,
instead of tearing her down,
they built walls that reach to the sky…

But she learned to fold,
her lessons etched in skin forgotten,
and when she left,
no one noticed the gentle silence,
the lack of breath,
the whisper of a life turned to shadow,
falling softly through the cracks of a broken world.
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