Amelia James Poetry

They called me mad,
But I was only tired—
Tired of the lies that dripped like poison
Into my soul,
Tired of the games they played,
The ones where I was always the villain,
Never the victim,
Never the one who had the right to speak.

I stood,
Fury boiling beneath my skin,
Not because I wanted to be angry,
But because anger was the only thing left
To fight back with.
It wasn’t a choice;
It was survival.
And when I spoke,
They told me to hush,
To calm down,
As if my words weren’t fire,
But just an inconvenient spark
In a world that wanted me silent.

They made me the “mad woman,”
The one who couldn’t see reason,
The one who couldn’t let go,
As if it was my fault
For feeling the weight
Of all the unspoken truths
And broken promises.
But I wasn’t mad.
I was just awake.

And when they looked at me,
Their eyes full of judgment,
They didn’t see the girl who’d been gaslit
Into doubting her own mind,
The girl who learned to smile
When her heart screamed,
The girl who kept swallowing
What should have been said
A long time ago.

I’m tired of being called “crazy,”
Tired of being silenced
When all I wanted was to be heard.
But if speaking my truth makes me mad,
Then let them call me mad.
I’ll wear it like a badge of honor,
Because the only thing I’ll never apologize for
Is the fire in my chest
That won’t be put out.

-Amelia James