Forged

Pressure.

​

Years of it.

​

Held still.
Held fast.
No room to move.

​

Then—

not the worst thing.

Only the last.

​

Everything I had swallowed
caught fire.

​

Metal glowed
fury-orange.

​

Heat fed by anger
with nowhere else to go.

​

And under it—

something gave.

​

Bent.

​

A curve
where there had been rigidity.

​

Strength
that morphed.