I Am...Strong

I am loud in the presence of my brother
But when it comes to the outside world
I am quiet. I am soft. I am too quiet to
Be noticed and not enough to be remembered
I can remember the moments that took your breath
Away until you left. And it was just me.
And I told myself to be poised. I told myself that
I was a big girl now and big girls are not weak
Big girls do not cry when their mother tells them
That she wishes that she was never born.
Big girls do not wince when walking pass a
Group of boys with hands too big and smirks too wide.
No I am a big girl now and big girls are strong.
Like the insistent rain slapping against old rusted
Rooftops with leaky ceilings. I am strong like the smell
Of coffee and the power of dreams on nights I feel too
Weak to continue. I am the strong that feels like calused Hands and aching backs. The strong that is felt when all Energy is lost and motivation is high. And on the cold Grueling nights when I feel darkness gripping onto my Heart and panic tickling my lungs. I roar. I am solid.
And I am loud.

This poem is about: 
Me

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