“Let It Burn” by Miss T

I’m done with whispers. Done with grace.
Done playing nice to save your face.
I’ve had enough of biting back—
Of dimming down to dodge attack.

I was raised on bruises, built on fear,
Taught to hush and disappear.
But no more silence, no more shame—
This girl’s got fire in her name.

You think your demons rattled me?
Please. I’ve danced with worse and broke them free.
You sent your riddles in the night—
I showed up armed with truth and fight.

You laid in bed while I stood guard,
Panicked, shaking, battle-scarred.
You offered tea with ghost-white eyes—
While I was still untangling lies.

You thought I’d stay? You thought I’d bend?
You summoned me to play pretend.
But baby, I don’t soothe you now—
I built a life that you’d burn down.

Love isn’t fear. It’s not control.
It’s not a leash. It’s not a role.
It doesn’t bait, then step away.
It doesn’t make you beg to stay.

So listen close and hear me roar—
I won’t come knocking anymore.
Your silence is your final cue—
I’ve got no pity left for you.

I gave you years. You gave me pain.
You gave me guilt, I gave you gain.
I gave you grace you never earned—
So now I walk, and let it burn.

Burn the lies and burn the mask.
Burn every empty, cryptic task.
Burn the scripts and twisted plays—
Miss T is setting fire to days
Where I was small, where I felt trapped—
Where love was bruised and always snapped.

I rise in flames you’ll never touch.
I’ve had enough. I AM ENOUGH.!

Reflection

I used to call it love.
The ache, the pleasing, the trying-too-hard.
The way I shrank myself to fit his needs,
to earn his words,
to silence his moods.

But that wasn’t love.
That was survival,
with a smile painted on to make it more palatable.

I’ve given too many pieces of myself
to people who never even said thank you.
Who saw my softness as service,
my loyalty as leash.

And still, I stayed.
Because I thought that’s what good women do.
Because my mother taught me that obedience was safety,
and silence meant strength.

But now?
Now I see it clearly.

Love doesn’t bruise.
Love doesn’t twist fear into obligation.
Love doesn’t come wrapped in riddles
or threats disguised as vulnerability.

Love is not something I have to earn.

And my worth?
It was never in their hands.

So let them call me cold.
Let them say I’ve changed.

They’re damn right I have.

I’ve burned the old script,
set fire to the altar I used to bleed on.
And from the ashes, I’m rebuilding.

Not for them.
Not for approval.
But for me.

Because I’ve wasted enough time being likable.
Now I’m just being true.