Even when it stung my pride, leaving deep bloody sores of shame.
As each adjective unmasked the monster she saw in me.
Inside, there was heat, there was pain, but I couldn’t raise my voice (or my hand).
They would call me weak.
And there were no scars to tell the full story.
But deep inside it choked my little embryo of happiness.
Emotional abuse just doesn’t ring the right bells.
All I can do is smile.