When someone has an issue with my life,

my photographs,
My thoughts, my past, the words I write—
I go quiet, shut it all down.
Stop caring, stop hoping, let them fade,
Easier than the mess of saying goodbye.
I internalize, retreat,
Isolated, numb, all to avoid tipping that boat.

But at some point,
I must quit pandering to their bullshit,
Watch their fragile ship sink.
Stop tiptoeing around their broken world.
Be who I am—who I was—who I’ll always be.
Proud of the scars, the strength they never saw,
The person they never cared to know,
And never liked anyway...