Rot

Burning out in the cold has its consequences when my skills slowly become warped into weapons. There is this sneaky way you twist my words to straighten your own. This sneaky way you try to teach me to accept abuse when it comes wrapped with a bow. I hope you know that placing it gently in my hands won't change my mind. Not when you stripped me down to the bone, ripped me to pieces. It isnt my job to guard your heart and protect your feelings- I don't owe you anything.

But somehow you're still coming out better on the other side. Leaving me behind, stuck in your shadow, choked in the darkness without a purpose. So now I have no choice but to be duplicitous, changing my mind and then changing it again. I can't be ornamental anymore. I can't find any more parts of myself to shine for you. So go ahead and fold your ears, roll your eyes, and write about all my misgivings. Because through all of it, I will know.

I will know that even though you masquerade me as the offense, you're the one acting out of line. You're putting me down for your own peace of mind, using your indomitable strength as a ploy.

But I finally feel safe with the idea of change, and so when I haunt you from the shadows, I think I will finally have the courage to smile. Because I know your pathetic pride will only rot your mind, leaving you to crumble in the background, while I finally come out on top.