It is clear now.
The intent you omit.
That hidden motive
You are oh so desperately
Trying to hide from me.
Your honeyed words
Are dripping sickly sweet.
They stick in my mind
Binding me to your subtle charms
Cloying yet seemingly kind.
But I know now
There is a cunning to
Your kindness. It is
Such a clever, cruel game you play,
Using my love against me.
Just like the cat
That smiles at the mouse
With razor sharp teeth,
Your trustworthy exterior
Masked the slow cutting of claws.
You reshaped me;
Patiently broke me down.
Naively, I didn't
Notice the damage you had caused
Until it was all too late.
The say to leave,
But I am different now.
What would be the point
When I would always feel these wounds
and forever bare these scars?
YOU ARE READING
What it Means to Live and other poems
PoetryAn anthology of poetry based on my experiences with mental health, invisible illness, identity, and my journey of self acceptance and recovery. This book includes the following collections: Section1: What it means to live - Poetry looking at the hig...
