Hanging These Boots

Have you ever carried the weight of the world, even when you were just a child? This poem reflects on the journey of shedding old burdens—reclaiming strength after years of giving too much. It’s about stopping the cycle of sacrifice for others and finally choosing self-love and freedom.

I am hanging these vigilante boots of mine,
No longer the silent watcher, the quiet spine.
Morality carved deep in my soul’s skin,
I stood up as a child, though the odds were grim.

A mere child, shouldering weight not my own,
Shielding others from the pain I’d known.
For those who took all I had to give,
But choked on the thought of my joy to live.

My empathy, their tool for hidden schemes,
Harming, hurting, tearing apart my dreams.
They asked for my love after breaking my core,
And called me insane when I asked for no more.

I once believed love should have no gate,
No matter one’s past, no matter their fate.
But their greed turned my heart into a bitter ache,
Surrounded by hands that only take and take.

Now, I gather that love for my own flame,
Not a martyr, not a scapegoat in their game.
No more burdens that don’t belong to me,
I draw my boundaries, I choose to be free.

I hated hurting, despised being cold,
But self-preservation demands I be bold.
I let go of the narrative I’ve clung to for years,
No saviour’s mask, no more silent tears.

If I don’t do it, who else will?
To rebuild my spirit, to climb the hill?
So here I stand, boots cast aside,
Living for myself, no shame, no pride.

How many times have you given pieces of yourself to others, only to be left with empty hands? When do you finally say "no more," and start living for your own happiness? This is a call for anyone who has been the silent caretaker to take back their power. Can you step into that freedom, as I have, and stop playing the martyr?

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