Violence doesn’t always leave bruises you can see.
It hides in words that cut, in silence that smothers,
A shadow waiting, patient, behind closed doors,
Quietly chipping away at who you are,
Until you feel small, afraid, unseen.
But knowing the signs, that’s where it begins.
Do they tear you down with a smile on their face,
Chip away at your confidence with every word?
Do their actions make you shrink in fear,
Walking on eggshells, afraid to breathe?
Their cruelty doesn’t need fists to leave scars,
It traps you behind those same closed doors.
You try to convince yourself it’s not so bad,
Smile, laugh, say “I’m fine,” to anyone who asks.
But when the silence settles and no one’s there,
The words come back, loud and sharp,
Reminding you of their power,
Reminding you of your place-small, broken, alone.
And then you start to question yourself.
Maybe it’s you. Maybe you’re the problem.
But you’re not.
It’s their control, their manipulation,
Their need to keep you afraid,
Hidden, quiet, behind those closed doors.
But you can break free.
You can speak. You can stand.
Your voice is stronger than their silence.
Your courage is bigger than their control.
One step, then another, through the open door,
Toward freedom, toward yourself.
It’s time to name their words for what they are.
Time to break the silence,
To reclaim the you they tried to erase.
Because the scars they leave may not be visible,
But you are still here,
And you are still whole.
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