The Rage of Potential

A nameless anger sears through my chest in the mirror of what I see,

The rage of potential, a fire of passion, instead now ravages me.

An indiscriminate place where once lived my fervor to dance and sing,

Has become a vestige of innocence, haunted by ghosts that carry shame in everything.

A well of life, endless in its depth of tenacity, for only I can sip,

Within it has been replaced a violent sickness, washing over me with every thrust of my hip.

A younger girl, dancing freely, she tells those who show her shame that they are dismissed,

Now I stand a woman, a pelvis seized by terror's hold, keeping me tightly by the wrist.

This girl has been enraged for so long, the embers of passion echo in every scream,

My hips may not move anymore, but why does that have to be me?

The rage of potential in this girl, infuriated cries demand to let her be,

A force untapped, raw and wild, aching for me to let her free.

I am not the cage you’ve built, nor the silence that you wear,

I am a fire that demands to be released, demanding breath, demanding air.

What once was stilled by fear now begs for movement, for a place to start,

To reclaim the rhythm of life that pulses deep within my heart.

So let me dance, let me rage, let me soar with wild grace,

For the fire inside my bones is not meant for you to erase.

The rage of potential roars like a tempest untamed and free,

A force too fierce to obstruct, burning with all I could be.

The men who acted with venom, who cast their eyes like knives,

Carved me into pieces, diminishing the life that thrives.

The women clad in judgment cast shadows on my soul of disdain,

Projecting on me their own battles, blaming me for their own chains.

With them they drip poison, labeling me with their own blame,

Turning my body into a battleground, filling my heart with shame.

Like moths to a flame, they circle my fire with cruel intent,

Fearing my light, they snuff it out, a jealousy well spent.

They buried my freedom beneath the weight of their heel,

Shaping my hips into prisons, where standing before my fear, I learned to kneel.

I remain frozen, trapped beneath their watchful eyes,

A dancer no longer, my spirit shrouded in lies.

But inside still burns the rage, the potential they feared,

A force waiting to awaken, a wildfire that always remained near.

I fight to reclaim what their cruelty denied,

To break free of the chains; the girl who once danced is still inside.