He walked into the room like he owned the air
Like the world had whispered, “Take what you dare.”
Spoiled hands, heavy with entitlement’s weight,
Reached out for something that was never his fate.

I said nothing, but silence was clear,
No echoed consent, just my rising fear.
He mistook my stillness for an open door,
A boy who’d never been told, “No,” before.

His parents bought him the stars, the best of life’s things,
But they couldn’t buy respect for what living means.
He took and he tore, left me hollow, alone,
As if my body was something he could just own.

The weeks blurred together, the pain stayed loud,
I carried his shadow through each faceless crowd.
But the shame that he left is not mine to keep,
It’s his, stitched in silence, buried deep.

I reclaim the air he polluted with greed,’
I am not what he did; I am more than his need.
For I am the storm that will rise from this pain,
Unbroken, unbowed—I will own my name.