I Wrote It All Down

 

I already wrote it all down.

Every ugly corner.

Nothing left out.

I said it to myself first,

no flinching,

no pretending I didn’t hear it.

I said it to God too.

Not dressed up.

Not cleaned up.

Just the truth,

as it is.

And still…

this part scares me.

Because paper doesn’t look back.

God doesn’t raise an eyebrow.

But another person might.

Another person has a face.

A breath.

A silence after I speak.

I keep telling myself

I’ve already paid the price.

But that’s not true.

The weight is still here.

I know the rule of it now

These things don’t loosen

until they’re spoken

where someone else can hear them.

I’m not afraid of the words.

I’m afraid of being seen

while I say them.

But I’m more afraid

of carrying this forever.

So if my voice shakes,

that’s just fear leaving.

If I pause,

that’s years of silence catching up.

I’m not here to be forgiven by you.

I’m here to be free.

And if freedom costs me my pride,

I’ll pay it.

Because I’m tired of dragging chains

that only exist

                                                        because I won’t say their names.