Probably because I've already
written one poem for you
and I think that two might
make you too important.
The fact is though-
you're not.
You're a closed chapter in
the book of my life.
A footnote that literally
means nothing other than
lesson learned - I'm
moving on now.
Yet here I sit, writing about
you, or to you - again, and
NO, it's not because you're
that important, regardless
of what you might think
it's simply because....
I was taught respect.
I was taught to never talk back
to my elders
or to those in charge
to those who warrant some
modicum of regard
no matter how you might really feel.
You though?
You don't deserve any of that,
even though I could never
bring myself to say the words
aloud.
At least not to your face.
You, my dear, are a travesty
of holiness, a black smudge
on the face of humankind. You--
with your fake smile, your
holier than thou disposition.
A parody of good intent.
You're everything that makes me
sick. The game-playing, the whispers
to one about the other, then back
again, spreading lies and filth with
every breath, but I at least, see truth
I see the false intentions.
You destroyed a part of my life
that I cherished deeply.
You wounded the ones I love most
hurt them in that place in their
hearts that matters most.
Destroyed self-confidence. Trust.
You're nothing but a pretender.
A false prophet, not in sheeps clothing
because sheep are cute and fluffy. You?
You're a reptile, a leech, something
that lurks in the dark because
in the light, even you could see the ugliness.
You're a hypocrite. A liar.
I can almost hate you because I
wanted so badly to believe
that I could have something that
I needed so desperately, but in the end
you have to have cared to hate.
I feel good, because I don't hate you.
I feel sorry for you.
I pity you and your fake life.
I can't imagine how shallow you must be
For your pettiness to have grown
and grown to take you over so completely.
I feel better because I know
that I am the better person.
Maybe that's spiteful, but I don't
think so. I think it's honest.
I think it's important that I've
restored what you stole from me.
I've also been taught
not to judge, but I do.
It might never be spoken, but it's there.
I hope that you've changed
although I doubt you have
because otherwise,
I'm fairly certain
your destination will not
be the one you sing about
on and on and on and on
I'm sorry to say
but a place much darker indeed.
