You made me hollow

I was only five when the thunder came,

Curled in the dark, whispering your name.

Waiting for somebody to hold me tight,

But I learned how to disappear that night.

I wore my fear like a second skin,

Learned to stay quiet, learned to give in.

Every slammed door, every angry sound,

Taught me the safest place was on the ground.

And I kept thinking someday I’d understand,

Why the person I loved was the one I couldn’t stand.

I kept looking for a reason to stay,

While pieces of me slowly faded away.

You took the light from my eyes,

Turned my laughter into cries.

You broke me down and called it love,

Then wondered why I wasn’t enough.

You made me scared of every sound,

Taught me to keep my head down.

But there’s one thing you couldn’t take—

The part of me you couldn’t break.

I grew up watching people walk away,

Learning that kindness could disappear in a day.

I searched for a friend, I searched for a home,

Anything that made me feel less alone.

I dreamed of a prince when I was young,

Someone who’d save me when the damage was done.

But somewhere along the years I learned

I didn’t need saving—I needed to be heard.

Now the little girl hiding underneath

Is finally learning how to breathe.

And every scar you left behind

Is proof that I survived your lies.

You took the light from my eyes,

Turned my laughter into cries.

You broke me down and called it love,

Then wondered why I wasn’t enough.

You made me scared of every sound,

Taught me to keep my head down.

But there’s one thing you couldn’t take—

The part of me you couldn’t break.

I don’t need your forgiveness.

I don’t need your name.

I don’t need to carry

The weight of your shame.

You told me I was nothing.

You told me I was weak.

But every time I stood back up,

You failed to bury me.

So look at me now.

I’m still standing here.

You gave me all this darkness—

But I survived the years.

You took the light from my eyes,

But you couldn’t take my life.

You tried to turn my heart to stone,

But I learned how to stand alone.

You made me afraid of the world,

But I’m not that little girl.

You can keep the memories you made—

I’ll keep the part you couldn’t break.

I was five when I learned to hide…

But I’m not five anymore.

And this time…

I’m walking out the door.