“Becoming (The One They Couldn’t Kill)” by MissT

I’m not becoming old and tame
I’m rising with a brand new name
Not “slag,” not “mad,” not “past her prime”
I’m the woman built from grit and time

Thrown out, dragged back, then used again
Taught love was earned through other men
But every time they shut me down
I sharpened teeth and straightened crown

I bit my tongue, I played it sweet
I held the peace beneath their feet
Silence cracked and fire came
But pain is not my middle name

I’ve seen dreams die in daylight’s grip
Held coffee cups with trembling lips
I’ve cleaned their homes, absorbed their rot
While waiting to be seen. I’m not

I’ve dreamt of birds with twisted wire
Of sons pulled up in beams of fire
But I’m not broken, I’m reborn
A phoenix rising from their scorn

No pity, no more playing nice
No soft applause for sacrifice
I don’t want crumbs, I want the feast
I’m not their fool, I’m not their priest

I don’t want war, I want my peace
But I will fight to get release
No more their echo, soft and small
I’m rising loud. I want it all

So don’t call me old, frail, or meek
Don’t twist my words and call me weak
I’m not going to dust, all quiet and still
I am the storm your lies can’t kill