- This poem is a confession, a confrontation with my own heart.
- It's about the moments when loyalty is taken for granted, when kindness is mistaken for weakness, and when silence becomes the loudest scream.
- It's the journey of seeing someone you once trusted turn into a shadow of the person you thought you knew—only to realize, you were never meant to be part of their story after all.
- It’s a reflection on betrayal, resilience, and reclaiming the pieces of yourself that were lost in others.
- If you’ve ever felt your truth twisted, your worth questioned, or your heart broken in ways words can’t capture, then this is for you.
- Not just my story—but yours, too, if you dare to look beyond the surface and find the strength to let go.
Shards of Truth, Echoes of Silence
I did not raise my voice.
Not when they spat shadows in my name.
Not when silence dressed up as virtue,
and the kindest parts of me
were cross-examined by girls who never asked
how I managed to smile
with a knife between my ribs.
They said I was fake.
Said my kindness was costume,
my grace—performance.
But I had learned young
that thunder only startles
what isn’t already drowning.
I watched them throw stones
and then write hymns
about how hurt they were
when I bled too loud.
Yes—
I could’ve named names.
Unravelled secrets.
Shown the screenshots,
played the tapes.
But I didn't.
Because loyalty mattered to me.
Because promises mattered.
Even theirs.
So I swallowed the flame.
Again.
And again.
Till my voice tasted of cinders
and restraint.
This is not a revenge poem.
This is a eulogy—
for the friendships that bloomed in drought,
but withered at the sight
of rain.
I was loyal even after the bruising.
When the friend who cursed me
called me in her grief,
I still showed up.
Because I remember the good parts.
Because I do not unlove people
just because they’ve unloved me.
But I also remember
how easily they blocked me out—
over a missed birthday,
over a lie they chose to believe,
over truths that trembled too softly to be heard.
I remember the silence louder than the insults.
And I grieve it all—
not for what was lost,
but for how much I gave
to hands that never held me back.
I finally understand now—
not everyone deserves
the version of me
who stays
even after the fire.
So no—
this is not an angry poem.
This is a letting go.
A soft exhale.
A door quietly closed.
A girl who walked out of the ashes
and did not look back.
Have you ever faced betrayal and emerged stronger? Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below. Let’s talk about the journey from hurt to healing. If this poem resonates with you, don't forget to like, comment, and share—let’s spread the raw truth and inspire others to rise above.
Image sourced from freepik