The War Against a Young Girl

I see the way you hide your face,
Like you’re ashamed to take up space.
I know that look— I wore it too,
Before I learned what’s false, what’s true.

They’ll tell you lies about your skin,
Your weight, your height, the shape you’re in.
They’ll pick apart the way you dress,
As if you owe them more or less.

They’ll whisper names behind your back,
Their words like knives, their hearts so black.
But don’t believe the things they say—
Their cruelty fades, you will stay.

I know the nights you cry alone ,
When home’s a Warzone, love unknown.
When doors are slammed and voices rise,
And kindness drowns in shattered ties.

I know how friends can turn to ghosts,
And drama clings to halls like smoke.
How one wrong word, one foolish choice,
Can steal your name, erase your voice.

I know the ache of empty hands,
When no one asks or understands.
When lunchtime feels like endless shame,
A hollow seat, a missing name.

I know the things you’ve seen too young,
The screens that stole your childhood sun.
They showed you love in twisted ways,
And left you lost in tangled days.

But listen close— I need you to.
You’re not the things they’ve done to you.
You are not shame, you are not fear,
You’re meant for more than what’s found here.

So when the world feels cold and cruel,
And you’re the outcast, lost at school,
Remember this: I made it through,
And if I did, then so can you.