She stood within the doorway with a face of hammered iron
The target of a million words designed to tame a lion
They called it hysteria when she found the secret stash
Of every promise that he made then turned into an ash
They labeled it erratic when she smashed the porcelain plate
A jagged punctuation for a decade of his hate
The doctor spoke of “episodes” and scribbled on a pad
While ignoring every bruise and every reason she was mad
She’s lacing up her boots to walk right through the social lie
Watching every hollow word begin to shrivel and to die
The sun arrives to find the house a hollowed-out shell
Exposing every fracture where the rotten silence fell
She isn’t seeking “closure” and she isn’t seeking “peace”
She’s demanding every atom of a permanent release
Let the labels rot away like the wood inside the fence
While she finds a liberation in the sheer and raw offense
The wrath is just the wreckage of the love he threw away
The only honest engine for a cold and winter day