Upon the tongue of one who dares to speak,
A tale of wounds, by shadowed past engraved,
The heart unveils what silence long has staved,
Not frail, but bold, though scars may render weak.
The world, too swift, presumes a mind so meek,
A victim’s cloak forever to be waved,
Yet strength resides where truth is bravely paved,
To heal, to warn, not merely pity seek.
But oh, the edge where courage turns to chain,
When pain becomes the banner ever flown,
A soul entombed in grief’s unyielding reign.
Still, let us judge not haste by voice alone—
For some, to name their storm is to regain,
A life reborn from ashes overthrown.