Hate.
Hate is a strong word.
But you made me feel it,
not towards you but to myself.
You stabbed and poked till I was raw
on the bathroom floor bleeding.
Hate is a strong word but you made me
feel like everyone hated me.
Hate is a strong word but you made
me hate my body.
You pointed out every single flaw of mine
like you don’t have any yourself.
Hate is a strong word but I hated how I felt those nights
crying all alone in my room wondering
why no one wanted to be my friend.
Hate is a strong word but I would hate for someone
to feel how I felt those days all alone.
Scars.
I have scars from you pointing and laughing at me.
I have scars from the names I let you call me,
just so I could be your friend.
I have scars from thinking I needed to change myself
for you to like me.
I have scars from the way you used my brother passing as a joke,
thinking you were so funny.
I have scars but they don’t define me.
I have scars but I’ll never let anyone get to me like you did.
Healed.
I healed by not needing to please everyone but myself,
by isolating myself from the wrong people.
I healed so I don’t end up the bully,
but a better version of myself.
I healed so my siblings still have a sister,
so my parents still have their daughter.
I healed for myself.
I healed but I still have my scars.