Paper Walls

I’m only twenty-one, but I feel a hundred now,

Thought love was something gentle, but you taught me different somehow.

You locked the doors with whispers, the kind that cut like steel,

Kept telling me I owed you more than I could ever feel.

You’d pull me close to own me, never ’cause you cared at all,

And every time I tried to leave, you made my courage fall.

You twisted all my memories ‘til I couldn’t trust my mind,

Turned a room into a warning, left my heartbeat trapped behind.

You dressed control as comfort, dressed your anger up as need,

Made me question every boundary just to keep you pleased.

And though the world kept turning, I felt frozen in your hands,

A ghost inside a life I never thought I’d understand.

And no one saw the bruises you kept hidden under words,

But the quiet things you whispered… God, those cut the deepest hurt.

I’m trying to breathe through these paper walls,

You built them around me, made me feel small.

You painted yourself as the victim each time,

While I lost my voice and you stole my mind.

You said it was love, but it felt like a cage,

A storm without thunder, a fire without flame.

I’m breaking away though the scars still call—

I’m not your shadow… I’m learning to stand tall.

You’d tell me I was worthless, then beg me not to go,

A cycle made of poison wrapped in “love me, don’t you know?”

The nights you crossed the boundaries I never said were gone,

I froze beneath the pressure, trying hard to stay strong.

You’d take what wasn’t given like you had some kind of right,

And I learned to stay quiet just to make it through the night.

No one ever told me boys could be the ones afraid,

But fear don’t choose a person—pain still hits the same.

I tried to drown the echoes, but they followed when I slept,

The broken promises you made are ones I somehow kept.

I’m trying to breathe through these paper walls…

They tremble and shake but the weakest still fall.

You painted your sins as my faults every time,

Till I carried blame that was never mine.

Maybe someday I’ll forgive myself

For staying far too long,

For thinking I deserved your rage,

For trying to stay strong.

But healing isn’t quiet, freedom isn’t clean,

It’s shedding off the shadows I never meant to keep.

I’m older now in ways that don’t show on my skin,

Piecing back the parts of me you tried to cage within.

I’m reaching toward the sunlight even when it burns my eyes,

Better truth in the daylight than safety in your lies.

I’m learning to breathe past these paper walls—

They’re thinner than I thought, they’re starting to fall.

You don’t get to follow every step that I take,

You don’t get the power from every mistake.

You said it was love, but I know that was wrong,

I’m finally rewriting the end of your song.

The pieces you shattered won’t own me at all—

I’m not your prisoner… I’m finally standing tall.

I’m twenty-one and healing…

That’s the story after all.