Performance notes:
[pause] = explicitly calls for an extended period of silence, emphasizing its importance to the scene
/ = indicates a short pause or a “beat,” similar to a comma, for a quick intake of breath or a micro-pause
— = indicates a more abrupt or interrupted shift in speech
Line breaks = indicates a forced pause between thoughts or statements, adding weight to each phrase
Author’s Note: “No More”
by Brandon L. Moore, Ph.D.
“No More” is both a reckoning and a release. It tells the story of reclaiming voice after generations of silence, of turning survival into strength, and of choosing to lead with love instead of fear.
This poem confronts cycles of abuse, shame, and learned silence that shaped my early life and declares an end to them — not with vengeance, but with self-awareness and healing. Its rhythm mirrors recovery itself: jagged and uneven at first, then gradually steadying as peace takes root.
At its heart, “No More” is about breaking generational patterns. It’s about refusing to carry pain forward and learning instead to build love, accountability, and openness in its place. It is a declaration of worth, a promise to my family, and a reminder that healing is possible for anyone brave enough to name their truth and say, simply, “No more.”
No More
By Brandon L. Moore © 2025
“I am no longer accepting the things I cannot change.
I am changing the things I cannot accept.” — Angela Davis
No more. [pause]
No. That’s the word I wanted to say /
but didn’t know how. [pause]
It’s what I felt inside /
but was told to swallow — anyway.
No more. That’s it. [pause]
I won’t sit in the little box /
you built for me. [pause]
I’m not going to take it. [short pause]
From the time I was young /
I watched violence break the air —
fists meeting faces, names turned to weapons. [pause]
You didn’t care who saw. [pause]
Even me. [pause]
It hurt. [pause]
Never again. No more.
You won’t hurt me again. [pause]
I won’t hurt you either —
because that’s not who I am. [pause]
I choose to be better / to be a real man.
You made me cry / and feel small inside, [pause]
like I couldn’t trust or tell / the things I hide. [pause]
I was only three / when someone you trusted / took what wasn’t theirs. [pause]
My body was mine. It should have always been mine. [pause]
When my cousin started abusing me /
the first time was the worst — or so I thought. [pause]
But it went on / and on /
until fear became the floor beneath me. [pause]
I don’t remember the date / or the time —
only the moment I whispered “No more.” [pause]
It should never have been necessary / to claim my own skin. [pause]
I didn’t tell you, mom or dad, [pause]
because I couldn’t trust you / to take care of me. [pause]
I watched you hurt each other —
yelling, slamming, tearing through the walls. [pause]
We children sat up in bed / waiting for the storm / to start again. [pause]
We were the lookout / and the peacekeepers / and the broken ones. [pause]
When I was in third grade / the rumors came. [pause]
Children can be cruel —
especially when cruelty is all they’ve seen. [pause]
No child should have to prove who he is / just to breathe in peace. [pause]
And at home / no one defended me. [pause]
My brother laughed. My parents turned away. [pause]
Excuses became the language of love. [pause]
I heard / “They just need more love than you.” [pause]
And I believed it / until I didn’t. [pause]
No more. [pause]
I will not fit into the place you made for me. [pause]
You are toxic / and I am done drinking the poison. [pause]
To my mother, my father, my brother, my cousin —
no more. [pause]
I won’t let your shadows / stretch across my mind. [pause]
I’m facing the demons / and it hurts — but I’m healing. [pause]
I am not like you. [pause]
I choose love. [pause]
I choose truth. [pause]
I choose to be free. [pause]
The pain that shaped me / does not define me. [pause]
It’s not me — it’s what happened to me. [pause]
Each day / I fight / to be better / to be kind / to be whole. [pause]
I became a Marine / to become dangerous —
so no one could ever hurt me again. [pause]
But danger wasn’t healing. [pause]
Strength isn’t armor — it’s honesty. [pause]
The battle now is in the mind / and the heart. [pause]
That’s where the war ends. [pause]
No more. [pause]
I won’t carry your patterns. [pause]
Your confusion / your cruelty / your silence. [pause]
Facing it — owning it — that’s how I win. [pause]
You had your chance / to show me the way. [pause]
You didn’t. [pause]
And even when I told you / what hurt / you turned away. [pause]
You made me think / the broken thing was me. [pause]
It wasn’t. [pause]
It never was. [pause]
It’s taken forty-five years / to say these words / out loud. [pause]
To write them down. [pause]
To stop hiding from the ghosts / and call them by name. [pause]
They are real. [pause]
But so am I. [pause]
I’ve learned that feeling pain / isn’t weakness. [pause]
It’s proof I survived. [pause]
Too many times I was told my feelings lied. [pause]
No more. [pause]
Now / you are removed from my life / until you face what you’ve done. [pause]
Because the cycle must break —
and it breaks here. [pause]
The rain that fell on me / won’t drown my family. [pause]
My wife / my children / my grandchildren —
they are my sunlight through the storm. [pause]
We talk / we cry / we apologize / we heal. [pause]
No secrets / no hitting / no favoritism / just love. [pause]
Imperfect — but honest. [pause]
I’ve made mistakes. [pause]
But I’m working. [pause]
Because they deserve better / than the pain I knew. [pause]
I will never stop trying / to be better today / than I was yesterday. [pause]
To be loving / kind / and real. [pause]
Even when I fall short. [pause]
I will forgive myself. [pause]
Because I must. [pause]
Because I am me. [pause]
Because I love. [pause]
And that — is enough. [pause]
No more. [pause]
For every survivor who decides the story ends differently this time.
