You were always standing on your own.

Standing

out in the pouring rain,

you never cared about getting drenched;

out in the blistering heat,

you never got tired of being roasted in the sun;

out in the biting cold;

you never complained, even when you froze into numbness.

You didn't mind.

You grew used to it over time.

You paid no attention to the haters.

Even when the bullets were aimed directly at you,

you still stood your ground.

And whenever they taunted you with their dirty insults,

criticized you with their snarky remarks,

tried to provoke a fight,

you knew better than to fall into their traps.

You didn't spit back—

there was no point fighting a battle you would always lose.

Nor did you give in and cower away in fear—

there was no point of giving them the satisfaction of your surrender.

You simply

held your head up high,

wore a serene expression on your face

and stared right into their eyes,

silently rebelling,

to show them that

they may be able to poke holes in your clothes,

conjure obstacles in your path,

and mess with your brain

but they will never be able to shoot you down.