Dear Fear, 
I hope you like the taste of dirt,
Piece by piece, I will be the first to bury you with my shovel, the same way you’ve been
trying to cut through my skin. I will choke you with rocks, so you never speak again of
my height. I will push deep with the sole of my shoe, “Look who’s standing tall now!”.
With my shovel full again, I will cover your heartless ribs. You tried to fill your hollow
insights with mine. In exchange for hate, you tried to take my soul. You turned the world
against me; or rather you turned me against the world. Because of you, I thought even
though short, I didn’t fit in. Because of you, I thought, even though a woman, I didn’t fit
in. Because of you, I thought, even though unique, I didn’t fit in. So there, I crash your
empty ribs with hard soil. 
 Dear Fear, I have news, you will never win over me. You cannot touch me; I have
broken your boney wrists! You cannot grab the fabric of my clothes telling me “It’s
cheap!”. You cannot point at my face with your finger or send your models into my feed
or fix my nose or my eyebrows or the color of my skin. The blood is running warm in my
veins. I might be standing tall, but I am not standing out. I belong in this world as much
as everybody else! 
You will never win over me! I put my name on the stone above your grave! You sent
your faceless terrorists, “Bring me the brain!” you told them, “Bring me the liver!” you
told them, “Bring me her heart!” You wished to swallow me piece by piece, self by self.
Insight out. But I planted violet lilies and white daisies above your grave when I realized
the only way out was through. I found peace through you, Fear. You taught me how to
roll my eyes at your wicked expressions and how to shrug my shoulders at your heinous
comments. I put my name on the stone above your grave; you wanted me to lose
myself and instead you helped me find it. 
That is all I need to go now; the feast is about to begin above your grave. 
Sleep tight.

(83% style score)