You may write me down in history with your bitter, twisted lies, you may tread me in the very dirt, but still, like dust, I’ll rise.
You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I’ll rise.
Life doesn’t frighten me at all.
Is it true the ribs can tell the kick of a beast from a lover’s fist?
