You Should Shut Up

Don't you dare—
            ...and I know you hear me
I know you feel the breath of my invisible judgement on the back of your neck
     Close up
Turn around

No one there—I am.

Do I have to bury my face in yours trying to make you hear me?

How dare you say to me that my belly spills jelly
And that my core is made of flimsy rubber bands
That I am not real
That I have no substance.

(I was called a baby whore by someone I adored..and it made my heart a living hell. But I’m still here.)

I'm steel. Except I’m not.

Benefits of doubt in spite of my broken pieces,

I am more than my shards of terror, 

I am more than the abuse I survived—more than the PTSD that is left in its wake

(On the nights and long car rides to school, I cry.)

My faith is steady.

I tumble down
I'm knocked done
And I get right-back-up.

I am not done.

You don't know my core.
You don't know my heart.
You have no clue of my strength.
You have no sense of who I am.

So you should shut up.