I inherited a silence that screams in the night,

Family lies—like rust in my bones.

They never taught me to say “no,”

Only to listen, stay quiet, endure the pain in my heart.

Mom cried in the bathroom, Dad—in a bottle.

I drew a smile on a face made of cardboard.

Now I stare into the mirror: is that me…

Or just the echo of their mistakes that refuse to vanish?

This isn’t love—it’s a chain,

Passed from hand to hand like poison.

I break it.

I won’t let my children inherit this fear.

This toxic legacy is mine—

but not my fate.

They taught me: “Strong men don’t cry,”

So I choked my emotions like fire trapped in a can.

Now I breathe. Boundaries—like walls of stone.

I won’t let chaos in, even though I know its name.

I won’t repeat the scene from their kitchen,

Where love meant: “You deserve more.”

I give freely—but with respect.

Because healing begins where fear ends.

This isn’t love—it’s a chain,

Passed from hand to hand like poison.

I break it.

I won’t let my children inherit this fear.

This toxic legacy is mine—

but not my fate.

Now I say “stop”—not from anger, but from respect,

Because love without boundaries is just smoke and emptiness.

I don’t carry their guilt—it was their choice, not my fate,

But I carry the wound… and I heal it, I don’t hide it.

I don’t want their hatred, I don’t want their fear—

I just want silence where my heart beats slowly.

I’m building a home from bricks I fired myself—

Not from the ashes of their lies, but from the fire of my truth.

It was never love—it was a chain,

Passed down through generations like a curse.

I set it ablaze.

I won’t let my children inherit this fear.

This toxic legacy is mine—

but NOT my fate!

I’m not to blame…

But I am responsible.

And that’s enough to start anew.