Shadows in the hall

I learned to tiptoe through the noise,

A quiet ghost without a choice.

Words like knives behind closed doors,

I was a child, but never yours.

You broke me down to build your throne,

Taught me fear and called it home.

Every smile came with a price,

Every hug was laced with ice.

But I remember —

Every scream, every lie, every silent fall.

The names you carved, the shame too tall.

You said I’d never be enough at all.

Now I’m standing, scarred but strong,

With the echoes fading from your song.

You don’t own me — not at all.

Not anymore.

I wore your anger like a skin,

Tried to hide the war within.

Built a mask and played along,

Till I forgot what felt like wrong.

You taught me love was just a game,

Built from guilt and soaked in shame.

But I found truth beyond the pain,

In broken pieces, I remain.

But I remember —

Every scream, every lie, every silent fall.

The names you carved, the shame too tall.

You said I’d never be enough at all.

Now I’m standing, scarred but strong,

With the echoes fading from your song.

You don’t own me — not at all.

Not anymore.

Some nights I still hear your voice,

But healing means I get a choice.

And every tear I cried alone,

Is building me a brand new home.

Yeah, I remember —

But I survived, and that’s the call.

I’m not your shadow on the wall.

I’m rising now, I’ve faced it all.

So here I am, and here I stand,

No more breaking on command.

You don’t own me — not at all.

Not anymore.