Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

living as a form of revenge

They say it’ll eat you up inside –

That it’s not therapist advised –

But the therapists don’t email back –

And my promise is already charcoal black.

 

So leave me my spite –

Let me keep living in spite –

Because what happened when I was young (and when I first realised the war was far from won)

 

Drives drives drives me onwards –

Teaches me how to disobey orders –

Tells me that to die is to die (and that if you don’t laugh you might as well cry)

 

No new beginnings and no fresh starts –

But the smallest resilience from broken hearts –

To deny what made me?

Too clean, too easy (let me bleed let me curse let me drown in it).

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