You keep being a minion—
a piece they move
when they’re too afraid
to enter the battlefield themselves.
They call it guidance.
They call it love.
But really,
it’s just control dressed in concern.
We play chess with our emotions,
trading honesty for silence,
sacrificing truths
just to stay on the board.
Every move is calculated—
a push, a pull,
a “don’t feel that”
a “you shouldn’t say this,”
a “be smaller so I don’t have to grow.”
But I’m done being a pawn
in someone else’s game.
I’m done marching forward
one terrified square at a time
just to be taken off the table
when I stop being convenient.
I’ve learned the weight of strategy—
the cost of bending,
the price of being played.
And now?
I choose my movements.
I protect my peace.
I study the board
and recognize the hands
that try to move me.
Checkmate
is not the end—
it’s the moment you realize
you were never meant
to stay a pawn.
You were always meant
to rise,
to break formation,
to claim your space
as the piece they never saw coming.