I had so much anger to give you. For the hurt and the disrespect, the entitlement, and blind dismissal of who I am. The using and disregarding of my inherent worth and needs so you could take from me to feed your narcissism’s insatiable shame ego.
But then I reached out my hands,
and I touched the ground,
and it all dissipated.
And now I’m tired.
And I’m sad.
Sad for you.
Sad for all the hurt inside you.
the disregard for your welfare,
or even the threatening of you life,
from everything that was supposed to love you and protect you as a child.
All that stuff that made you so awful inside
and I see that now,
that resplendently grotesque entity looming over you like a crown.
And can’t even be angry at your abuse anymore.
Just sad. For you.
To be an angry itching ball of fire red embers burning in every pore all the time?
To hear your mind constantly scream “You are never good enough and you will never be safe”?
To know in your mind
“mommy and daddy don’t love you
and won’t ever be there for you, not really,
not when you needed it the most.
What a horror to live in that shell!
So why should I give you my anger? Why should I correct your mind and show you why its you who is the wrong doer and not the hero? What good would it do me, to reinforce your rage in you? What good would it me to remind you of your constant sense of worthless. What good would it do you? What good would it do anyone?
You’re a shadow ball of dark prickly energy constantly swirling around your own self destruction, drinking down the vortex, only making it worse and making yourself sicker and sicker in emotional and physical debt.
So what worth would it be to give you more anger and worthlessness to carry?
Your burden of your own mind is too much for anyone.
You don’t need scolding
You need love and unloading.
And I can’t do that for you.
I will not go through that for you.
Not ever again.
I don’t need that load.
I wish you my love,
from a far, FAR away land.