Damaged Goods, That’s What She Is

Damaged Goods, That’s What She Is

They say she’s trouble, best left alone,

A heart made hard, a voice like stone.

But they don’t see what’s underneath,

The broken girl with shattered teeth.

She walks with weight she doesn’t show,

Each step a scar from long ago.

Her laughter’s thin, her smiles lie,

But still she stands, she doesn’t cry.

She’s learned the rules: stay small, stay fast,

Don’t talk too loud, don’t dwell on past.

Her name’s been spat, her name’s been sung,

In corners dark, where songs are hung.

They think she’s sharp, a jagged edge,

Too much to hold, too close to pledge.

But look again, beneath the fight,

She once was soft, she once was light.

Don’t call her brave—she’s not your cause,

She’s not your pain, she’s not applause.

She’s just a girl who learned to live

With nothing left but what she’ll give.

So whisper low if you must speak,

She’s not a story, not antique.

Damaged goods? Maybe that’s true.

But she’s still here, and more than you knew.