Dear past oppressors,

I don't forgive your malice.

I don't know if I ever will.

The damage done is certain,

all your taunts, they haunt me still.

My self-image has been shattered.

My mental health as well.

I fell into a state of darkness

losing hope you worked to dispel.

But joke's on you, foul despots,

because now things are looking up.

I got myself the help I need 

and have people to back me up.

So in a way, your efforts failed.

Give up, go home, you're through.

I know better than to listen, now,

to heartless beasts like you. 

This poem is about: 


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