Burn it all.
Burn the guilt, the shame, the whispered apologies I never owed.
Burn the bridges to who I was
when I made myself small to survive.
Burn the “good girl” mask,
burn the days I choked on silence
because I thought being loved meant being easy.
Let it blaze.
I am not made of ash.
I am made of embers that wouldn’t die.
Of rage and grace and holy defiance.
Of every scream I swallowed
and every scar I wear like a medal.
I’ve fought demons no one else could see.
Thoughts that looped like chains around my ribs.
The kind of darkness that doesn’t just visit—
it moves in.
But I stayed.
I stayed.
And you know what?
I’m still fucking breathing.
Every day my mind says quit—
I stay.
Every day I hate the skin I’m in—
I stay.
Every day I spiral and snap and pick myself off the floor—
I stay.
This is not weakness.
This is not luck.
This is survival with teeth.
So light the match,
watch me burn down the past.
Watch me rise from the smoke
with my middle fingers raised,
my daughter’s name on my tongue,
and a fistful of stars I refused to let go of.
I am not done.
I am not done.
Let the fire speak.
And let the world listen.