Strength

When people compliment your strength,

don’t thank them: it’s a trap.

Bullies, thugs, and

narcissists will heap praise on you,

flattering your strength

while swinging bats

at your kneecaps,

your spine,

your skull,

your heart.

The astonished “You’re

so strong” is just spin

for “Why are you so

difficult to mortally wound?”

So you keep surviving,

maybe not thriving, just

getting through the days and nights that run together like the world’s longest run on sentence, not even giving you the half-breath of a comma to sustain you through the alternately torturous and mundane pages of the calendar until you’re certain you will simply collapse.

But don’t you dare stop trying,

don’t give any of them

the satisfaction of seeing you

writhe in pain in the sewer;

keep it all hidden, pin a badge

over every chink in your armor.

Harden your heart and stiffen your spine—there’s work to do, and without you,

it won’t get done.

Let your armor hold you up,

cling to your own ribcage if you must,

but once you’ve been labeled

strong,

they’ll rip you to shreds

like jackals

if you show the slightest

sign of weakness.