Michael Fulkerson Poet Free verse

Sanity Isn't Yours To Define

You call me villain, cold and cruel,  
Yet I’ve done nothing but breathe and endure.  
I walk alone, not to isolate—  
But to escape the sting of your quiet war.  

You don’t scream, you don’t strike,  
But your silence cuts deeper than knives.  
You dress your disdain in concern,  
And call it care while you twist my mind.  

You say I need help,  
But never ask what hurt me.  
You diagnose me with your own delusions,  
Projecting shadows where there’s only light.  

I’ve searched myself for the monster you see,  
But found only bruises from your beliefs.  
You wear sanity like a crown,  
But it’s forged from fear, not truth.  

I am not broken.  
I am not yours to fix.  
I am not your mirror,  
And I won’t reflect your chaos back.  

So call me cold—  
I’ve learned to freeze the pain.  
Call me villain—  
I’ve survived your story without becoming it.  

But don’t call me crazy.  
Because sanity isn’t yours to define.  
And I am not yours to destroy.

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