The first time someone called you brave,
It was because you crossed the street without looking.
You didn’t do it out of bravery;
You just didn’t think to look.
But you liked the punch of B on your lips.

At a time when you weren’t quite sure
Who you were, you knew you could be brave.
When your friends felt sick on a rollercoaster,
You had another go because you were brave.
When they dared you to go in the abandoned house
Everyone thought was haunted,
You walked right in because you were brave.
When you lost your grandmother’s necklace,
You told the truth because you were brave.

When he banged on the door, screaming,
You let him in–because you were brave.

When his fingers dug in your skin
Grip too tight as he pinned you down,
You didn’t beg him to stop.

When his clenched fist smashed your skin,
You didn’t scream.

When he told you the bruises
He left were your fault you didn’t cry.
You kept quiet.

When they asked about the purple patches
You tried to hide with concealer and hair
You didn’t tell the truth–
Because you’d be damned
If you let anyone call you a victim.

You’re too brave for that.