Bullied?

Was talking to someone earlier about being bullied as a kid,
It brought back some shit on which I thought I'd put a lid.
Brought back a nickname I haven't been called in years,
Something that made me different and provoked lots of tears.
Decades of agony that live in my head not paying rent,
Dawned on me now, wasn't my fault, my tears are now spent.
Because taking such abuse has in a way given me pride,
As thinking about it, from my bullies I never did hide.
I fronted them out, always stood toe to toe,
Was it stupidity or young macho bravado?
They punched me, they kicked me, always spat in my face,
Made me feel like an animal, not part of the human race.
But perhaps thinking about it now, maybe I was the bully?
Because as they couldn't break me, they must've felt weaker than me.
The abuse made me who I am, someone who respects all others,
Whilst they can't even lie to themselves and say they're a credit to their Mothers.
What I guess I'm getting at in a roundabout way,
Whatever you think has broken you has actually made you stronger today.