The Wicked Lady

The Wicked Lady

Her Truth

They call me wicked,

I call it survival.

I did not choose the dark,

the dark chose me.

They see the shadows,

but not the fight.

They name me cruel,

because I will not break.

I wear my silence,

like a queen’s crown.

I don’t need their love,

I need my freedom.

What broke me once,

made me twice as strong.

What they call wickedness,

I call my sword.

I walk alone where others fear,

no chains can hold, no words can steer.

My scars are not something to hide,

they are the map of where I survived.

You can speak ill, you can turn away,

I am the master of my own day.

I am not here to be your dream,

I am the truth you have not seen.

And when the stories all get told,

remember this before you judge too bold.

The wicked lady standing tall,

is the one who caught you when you fall.

I do not ask for your forgiveness,

nor for your praise or fondness.

I stand on ground I built myself,

not on your lies, or your wealth.

If wicked means I will not bend,

then let this be my story’s end.

I’d rather be feared than a fool,

the woman who wrote her own rules.