rehearsed ~ poem

i was not born, i was built —
brick by brick of guilt and wilt.
a sculpture shaped by scorn and fear,
hollow-eyed and trained to hear.

i learned to smile with clenched teeth,
to say “yes” while burying grief.
they called it strength when i didn’t cry —
but all i became was a whisper taught to lie.

they praised me for silence, feared my truth,
draped me in rules, then stole my youth.
my dreams were taxed before they flew,
each breath a debt i never knew.

they clapped when I stayed still and cold,
molded me sharp, then blamed the fold.
they built a throne from chains and lies,
and cursed me when I outgrew their ties.

i wasn’t raised — I was rehearsed,
taught to smile through every curse.
and now i bleed in fluent commands,
a stranger built by someone else’s hands.

~