You call me soft—yet I’m the one who would hold your hand after the accident.
You call me weak—but I’d stand unshaken in your defense if you were wronged.
You say I’m insecure—yet I’ve risen from the ashes to prove exactly what I’m made of.
You claim I know nothing—yet I’m not the one exhausting myself trying to prove it to the world.
Say what you will.
When I lay my head down at night, my spirit is steady. My conscience is clear. This is because I know my worth.
— Tawnia Lives

