The Choice

You know what cuts the deepest?
When a motherfucker had a choice.
They could’ve chosen to love me right, stand beside me, protect me.
But naw, they chose to hurt me.
To play me. Betray me.
To look me dead in my face and still move foul like I ain't never poured into them.
I gave from an empty cup.
I gave when I had nothing left but faith.
Ideas, support, sacrifice, hell, I even gave prayers they didn’t deserve.
And love? I gave love pure enough to heal wounds I didn’t even cause.
To heal hearts, I never broke.
And they still chose to say, “Fuck You!”
That’s the part that eats at me.
Because it wasn’t no mistake, shit wasn’t no slip-up.
It was a conscious decision.
They looked at everything I was: selfless, loyal, real, and said,
“Yeah, I’m still gon’ do her dirty.”
The audacity.
The unmitigated gall.
See, it took me a long time to learn boundaries.
To stop letting people rob me of what I owe me.
My peace. My power. My energy.
Because I finally realized...
I can’t keep fixing people who break me.
And I refuse to let anybody take from me what I worked too damn hard to reclaim:
Everything that’s mine.