When We Say Goodbye
When we say goodbye,
Time will not stand still.
Life moves on as it always has,
Forsaking my own will.
Don’t try to feel sad—
I’ll know it’s all a lie.
You didn’t love me while alive;
Don’t pretend to care when I die.
I was a burden to so many,
In my youth and old age.
I’d rather go out quietly
Than force a false stage.
No speeches, no flowers,
No tears you think you owe—
Let silence write my ending
In the language that I know.
Let the quiet be my witness,
Let the wind recite my name.
You don’t get to rewrite my story—
You were the ones who brought the shame.
I begged for scraps of kindness,
You served me guilt and blame.
Now you want to call it love?
That’s cruelty dressed in shame.
You want forgiveness at my grave?
You had your chance in life.
I needed warmth; you gave me wounds—
And then you handed me the knife.
You taught me love meant silence,
Obedience, and fear.
That screaming wasn’t ladylike,
That pain should disappear.
You mocked the child I was inside,
Dismissed the woman I became.
And now you’ll dress in black and cry,
To ease your guilt and shame?
You think a eulogy can fix it?
You think God forgets like you?
I may be dust beneath your feet,
But I know everything you do.
Somewhere nearby, kindness flows—
Hands that help, voices that stay.
But here I stand, alone again,
Forgotten day by day.
My body aches, my steps are slow,
Yet no one hears my plea.
The love I need is absent now—
A ghost no one can see.
My eyes are wide, yet hearts grow cold,
Unseen though standing near.
I carry burdens no one sees,
And wait alone in fear.
You doubt the cracks within my frame,
Dismiss the weight I bear.
Yet absence speaks in quiet ways—
A love that’s never there.
You think I died defeated—
But you never saw me burn.
From every scar you gave me,
I forged the strength to turn.
You tried to steal my story,
To silence what I knew.
But even in your quiet,
My soul was breaking through.
I bore the weight of torment,
Yet kept my weary eyes—
You mistook my grieving silence
For weakness or disguise.
But I was learning how to fly,
With wings wrought from my pain—
Each feather forged in fury,
Each beat a bold refrain.
And now I rise, untouchable,
Beyond your reach or rule—
A phoenix born from ashes,
No longer your fool.
Speak your polished fables,
Cry your counterfeit goodbyes—
But I am fire everlasting,
While your truth dies, mine flies.
Copyright ©
Tracy McBride
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