You do not know my story.
Do not dare to soften my reality
to fit your comfortable limited view.
If I make you wince, good.
Is my honesty too much?
I spent years stuffing myself
Into silence for the comfort of others.
You will not use my truth as a tool
To advance your fiction.
I do not accept your rewriting of my experience.
I have come too far
To allow a fantasy
Composed by a stranger
To limit me.
I am my own.
You do not define me.
My truth is not yours to alter.