This poem is by War Bunny, an activist trans sex-worker.
A wonderfully strong woman.
She explains her poem thus:
It is a victory chant for those who survived abuse. It’s actually surprisingly old.
Each paragraph matches what’s written in order. It starts with someone who never really intended this relationship to be something so big in their life, “you were the first of many” implying that the person had multiple choices but stuck with that one because it came first. Despite that, they never really doubted their choice, blinded by the situation. A reference to guitar, knowing where to put your fingers on frets applying pressure to strings to get the right effect, symbolizing the person knowing what button to press to get what they want. In this case, years and years again. The fourth part comes back twice, symbolizing keeping up the mask despite the pain. The relationship continues despite how bad it is simply because nothing is opposing it, but the person telling the story feels trapped and can’t help looking away. However they give in when their abuser tells them to stop because they want to fight back but can’t. They do notice all the escape options surrounding them but something holds them back, feeling like the abuser is holding their life and defense tools hostage. They feel empty, damaged, defeated, and they’re figuring out the other knows too and are probably using this, reaching a point in their victory where the victim just can’t defend themselves anymore, almost inspiring awe. They accepted they were the “big bad” (even though they feel it’s wrong) and they’re trying to figure out what do to next. They manage to get away from this, but they “died” in the process, leaving their life behind, and now that they have nothing left all they can do is watch the other ‘thrive’ the remains. They’re describing what happened exactly that pushed them over the edge. Part four again. They’re gaining momentum, figuring out they don’t need their old tools to fight back, and now that they’re “re-equipped” they’re countering every lines of manipulation the abuser uses. The abuser gives in, quitting on trying to manipulate the person. They attempt a few more time to guilt trip the victim but it fails, only making the now-survivor laugh. They look back upon all the damage this whole thing left them, and in hindsight despite having lost so much they feel like it’s a victory. They really meant the love and time they poured in the relationship, but now that their old life is gone and they’re done grieving, they realize they outgrown the abuser, with newfound maturity helping them through it. And well, the very simple finale.
Sprout

It’s never been my intention
Not that I ever had any
I never wanted your attention
You were the first of many
But I never had any regrets
Any fear
Any stress
You played your strings along my frets
Every years
I confess
Despite my pain I strike a pose
Blood covering the stain
Despite growing ever so morose
Body bruised from the strain
We keep on going the distance
Carried by our persistence
Winds blow us into existence
Offering no resistance
But I suffer from wanderlust
Still I do just what I must
I resist, but you insist
Defeated, I clench my fist
I look away towards the doors
Countless around just like my pores
You make it hard, not to stop and run
But you got my key, my lock and my gun
I’m unloaded, baby, just like my heart
I’ve been like that from the very start
But surely you guessed that I’m not hope
Neither am I despair, but I sure am close
Though, I must admit
I owe you my respect
You reached a summit
That I didn’t expect
Please forgive me, but I’m still sore
I’ll need some time to get to my corpse
You proved me wrong, again and some more
My ghost still got to follow it’s course
Maybe one day I’ll be back alive
Kicking around and screaming “I’m back”
But meanwhile I’ll just watch you thrive
I really want to but I can’t keep track
You buried me in a haste
Under words I can still taste
Pulled me by the waist
Pushed me, I’m disgraced
Despite my pain I strike a pose
Blood covering the stains
Despite growing ever so morose
Body bruised from the strain
I’m still standing, and I’m still shooting
Firing you away from my fingertips
I don’t need my gun to be overshooting
I tore up away all of your little scripts
Don’t know what to say, now don’t you?
You know my words, you know it’s true
I can’t blame you for trying some more
It shook you down right to your core
It took me some time but I moved on
I think, deep down, I’m the one that won
I might have been dead but you sure ain’t lively
I’m thriving down here while you sing plaintively
“Fly me to the moon”, I meant that sincerely
But now that I’m buried, I’m growing quite nicely
I’m a mighty tree while you’re still a shrub
I’m not sorry that you’re not in my club
I’m quite done with this rant
But I needed this out
Like a victory chant
Grown from a sprout
War Bunny
(If you like the skull, you can find the shop here: https://boldmakerstudio.com/collections/skull-trees/geometric-skulls?fbclid=IwAR29IwqCBK40Z9D9conEJUIAQRu7tcEErXlGo8CnMNcIhL-ORftFKSa6YEw)