Beneath the weight of broken days,
Where echoes held her in a haze,
She found a spark they couldn't see
A voice, a breath, a will to be.

Their taunts once carved her like a blade,
Each word a scar that never stayed
But pain, she learned, can shape the flame
That burns through every given name.

She gathered pieces, soft but fierce,
The dreams they tried so hard to pierce.
She stitched her silence into art,
And wore her wounds like battlemarks.

No longer curled to fit their mold,
She stood, not loud, but firm and bold.
Their shame could not define her skin,
Nor clip the storm she held within.

They saw a girl too much, too wild, 
She rose, a force, no longer child.
The autumn leaves they let decay
Now crown her path, a gold-lit way.

Not seeking love in fleeting nods,
She loved herself through all the odds.
A phoenix born from ash and cries,
She wasn't made to shrink, 
She flies.