{Poetry}: Carrying Stones

I carried a stone in my chest,
and it chipped when he said
he loved me and didn’t mean it.

I carried a stone in my chest,
and it broke a bit whenever
he refused to tell me he loved me.

I carried a stone in my chest,
and it nearly shattered when
he punched me and told me
it was my fault.
That I should have been
a good girl and listened.

I carried a stone in my chest,
and it sunk to my stomach
whenever he continued,
despite my pleas to stop.

I carried a stone in my chest,
and every time it chipped
or shattered, I thought the stone
was ugly and battered.

When I finally looked at it,
I realized it wasn’t a stone
after all.
It was a geode, and
past its exterior was beauty
unlike any I had seen before.

My beauty isn’t less beautiful
because of my scars.
They give me an elegance
unsurpassed.
I survived.
I’m a warrior, and the beauty
within is what makes me shine.

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