god, you wish
that your definition wouldn't always be "woman"
because you're a fighter first
and a person second
hair spilling red like fire over your shoulders
you weren't surprised when you found out that everyone you listen to is evil
your parents gone and nick fury dead for a little while
barton taken and coulson dead for a little while too
(when did this become a trend, you think to yourself)
all your handlers bad bad bad
and barnes a shell of what you lived through
you were strong enough to take it
and that has influenced every moment of your life from the red room on
romanova, romanov, romanoff
even your name, natalia, has been stripped from you
when barton brought you in,
death sentence hanging above your head, suspended
you found something akin to a fragile, fracturing home
lost souls made for killing turned into a bare resemblance of heroes
and you don't know, really.
you just don't.
you're so tired, of all the blood staining your hands
of the misogyny and the corruption
and for once in your life,
you think not only do you not deserve the world
but the world doesn't deserve you.