i built myself out of petticoats and stories and the sound of my bare feet as they hit the floor and i do not owe that building to anyone and i do not owe anyone silence 

i made myself piece by piece from the discarded shards of a girl i was taught to be afraid of and i am no longer afraid and i am no longer helpless and i am not a goddamned golem so you better not expect me to be silent when you come for me in the dark and tell me to return to the dust i came from

i am small but i fill a room when i walk into it because i believe that i deserve to take up space, five feet of bone and frizzy hair but i wear a ten foot shadow and my voice breaks apart the stars

my aquiline nose and rounded belly and scarred legs have power because i grant it to them; there is not enough room inside of my chest for me to spare shame to the flatness of my feet or the itch of words inside my fingertips

my crown is not made out of the thorns of your suffering but from my own scribbled writing in the battered notebooks where i taught myself how to steady my own shaking hands and i will not forget that no matter how many times you make me write my weakness on the chalkboard