My Strength Is A Forest

It doesn’t feel right to thank you, yet that’s what I’m doing anyway.

Roots constricting my soul, you used to control who I was.

Your leaves of loathing littered my backyard of a mind; just enough to encourage me to notice.

(God, how I noticed!)

You told me that everything I thought was right was wrong

And I thank you for that.

Because now that I overpower you,

I’m the strongest I’ve ever been.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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