TaylorsVersion22

THEY’RE! 👏🏻

SUPERMAN! 👏🏻

Superman is for adopted kids

As an adopted kid, the final scene of Superman (2025) hit like a punch to the heart—in the best way.

The film opens with Clark watching messages from his Kryptonian parents, trying to anchor himself in a heritage he never knew, finding comfort in the idea that he came from somewhere. It’s something I’m sure most adopted kids have dealt with at some point.

But it’s that last scene—where we hear the same line from the start of the film again, only this time he’s watching the Kent’s, his real parents in every way that counts—that lands with a different kind of weight.

“You think everything and everyone is beautiful,”

“Maybe that’s the real punk rock.”

not because the flame died—

but because the smoke

started to suffocate me.

Loving me

was lifting a storm,

but touching me

was just muscle memory—

your favorite sin

with no repentance.

You didn’t cheat.

You just opened every door

not because the love was gone—

it stayed, clinging to my ribs

like breath I couldn’t shake.

I left because I was angry,

and you kept giving me reasons

to stay mad.

Loving me—

that was heavy for you,

wasn’t it?

Too many shadows to hold,

too many thoughts

you’d rather not know.

But touching me?

That was effortless.

Like a habit.

Like muscle memory.

You didn’t cheat.

Not technically.

Not in the way that would stain a shirt

or leave a voicemail.

But I still call you a traitor.

Because betrayal

doesn’t always come with lipstick on collars—

sometimes, it comes in

lingering looks,

unsaid messages,

the kind of silence that feels

like a slap.

And when I found out—

that it was her,

the antithesis of me,

sunlight where I’m storms,

plastic where I’m poetry—

God, that was a different kind of sting.

It wasn’t just that you almost left me.

It was that you reached for someone

who reminded you

of everything I’m not.

So don’t ask me

why I walked away.

You already know.

I didn’t leave because I stopped loving you.

I left because

Is there grace in the ache, or sweetness in the scar,

A soft, silent glow in the battles I spar?

Do these bruises gleam under pity’s soft light,

Or am I merely a shadow in the heart of the night?

If beauty lies somewhere in sorrow’s embrace,

Then perhaps in this suffering, I’ve found my own grace.

A poem for @caelyn08

You’re so pretty, pretty like royal blue.

Pretty like the moon and all its little stars.

Pretty like rain droplets on windows, and cloudy days.

You’re so pretty, pretty like old books and fresh capachinos

Pretty like the autumn forests

And pretty like your smile

You’re so pretty, pretty like a flame.

Pretty like laughter

This is for the girls,

The girls who always feel like they aren’t enough. The girls who have cried over something a man said. The girls who have suffered the consequences of our society.

The girls who have been called out on their imperfections. The girls who are insecure. The girls who have been told their boobs are too big or too small. The girls with small waists who get told to “eat something”. To the girls with big thighs or fat tummy’s who have been told to “exercise”.

To the girls who have felt pressured to fit in with todays unrealistic standards, not just in our appearances but way of life too.

To the girls who have had their education interrupted because they were ‘distracting the boys’

We are pulled left and right, up and down. We beat ourselves up over things we can’t control. Yet all this effort,all this sweat and all these tears and still we don’t feel perfect, we don’t feel pretty and we don’t feel good enough.

We’re too tall, or too short. Too fat or too skinny. Too flat or too big. We wear too much makeup or not enough.

When we scream the lyrics of our favourite songs we’re crazy, obsessed and cringy but when men scream and yell about a sports game it’s just them being passionate.

When we dress up with our friends and for our movie dates, it’s embarrassing or we’re trying too hard. Yet when men dress up for football games they’re being team players.

When we like sport it’s only because we like to watch all the ‘hot’ men but nobody criticises the men for watching the cheerleaders dance in their tiny uniforms.

We are expected to look nice and pretty but don’t show off any skin or you’re asking for it, and don’t wear fancy clothes or you’re bragging, and definitely don’t look too nice or you’ll threaten other girls.

We did not ask to be catcalled.

We did not ask to be touched without consent.

We did not ask to be raped.

We did not ask to be treated like objects or possessions.

We did not ask to be called bitches.

We did not ask to be seen as less, just because of our gender.

We did not ask to be put into these boxes in this fucked up world.

…but here we are.

Crying over shitty boys. Wearing shorts under our skirts and dresses, constantly fighting to be treated equally, wishing away our beautiful bodies.

We are forced by society to waste the time we’ve been given.

We grew up hearing our teachers ask for ‘strong boys’ to move the chairs. We watched men cry when a woman beat them at games or sport, as if it made them weak. Our parents friends complimenting our beauty and not our brains. Hearing grownups talk about dieting and losing weight. We watched celebrities starve themselves for red carpets and look perfect on the screen. We read about who wore it better in our silly little magazines.

Woman fought for our right to vote and drive, read and write. It kills me to say some woman still don’t even have that. There are woman forced to hide away from the horrors in this world. Woman who live in constant fear. Woman who cannot even be educated. And woman who are forced into marriages they don’t want to be in.

For centuries we’ve fought and still we do not have enough. Still we compare ourselves to one another, starve our bodies, cry over hurtful words, and we blame ourselves for men’s mistakes.

This is for the girls…The girls who need a reminder.

You are enough.

Trying your best is enough. Even if it’s not the best.

Do not compare yourself to other people, you won’t ever be like them because you are not them. And that’s perfect.

Don’t change yourself to suit other people’s agendas.

We all feel ugly sometimes, you are not alone.

Love yourself! You are the only person who you’re stuck with forever, so love yourself completely.

You are smart.

You are capable of achieving anything you set your mind to, if you put in the work to achieve it.

Build yourself up, don’t break yourself down. Other people do enough of that for you already.

You deserve love.

Speak up for what you believe in when nobody else will

You deserve to breathe and feel everything at its full capacity.

Tell that girl she looks cute or that you like her sweater, she needs to hear it just as much as you do.

This was for the girls…..