abuse is a shadow that stretches long
a silent echo in the chambers of years
at first, it stings like fire on fresh skin
sharp, unbearable, a scream caught in the throat

then it seeps into bones
a slow ache that wears down the edges of self
confusion tangled with fear,
hope buried beneath layers of silence

the reaction is survival
numbness when feeling is too much
anger when words fail to protect
withdrawal to a place no one can reach

years pass, but the ghost remains
in moments that flicker, unbidden
a look, a tone, a memory
triggering the wounds that never healed

sometimes rage breaks loose
not just at the abuser, but at the world
for seeing, for turning away
for the unbearable weight of bearing alone

and still, beneath it all
there’s a fierce thread of life
a stubborn pulse that refuses to be broken
a whisper of strength growing louder with time

the reaction to abuse is complex
pain, yes, but also power
and the slow reclaiming
of what was stolen in silence