I Spoke My Story to the World

I Spoke My Story to the World

Bound and tied up, I spoke my story to the world,

Free of a wicked cult, in shadows I once curled.

Their rules like chains, their eyes like knives,

They cut through dreams and branded lives.

They taught us pain was proof of grace,

That bruises made a holy place.

We fasted till our hands would shake,

And smiled through rituals we’d break.

They called it love—a twisted creed,

Where silence grew from every need.

We knelt in rows with heads held low,

While “chosen ones” were killed you know.

They took my name, they took my will,

They made submission feel like skill.

They taught that crying was a sin,

And wore our guilt upon their skin.

We were the lambs for sacred flame,

Stripped of truth, stripped of name.

Each prayer a choke, each chant a knife,

Each vow a theft of any life.

They said I bore a sacred role,

To bleed, to break, to make them whole.

A vessel cursed to serve their creed,

My suffering, their holy need.

But I rose, voice hoarse, still loud,

Shaking truth from under shroud.

No longer theirs, no longer small,

I am the storm that breaks their thrall.

I planned it well, escaped rightly,

And lived to tell the world,

just what they did to me.

American soldiers took them all down,

I freed myself, I spoke the truth all round.

From up the cult once took me down,

Now—thank you, America,

I now wear my own crown.