Poetry's Tale to Tell

Pain is the Gain

I fall, 

You smirk,

 I cry, 

You laugh.

My pain is what you gain,

From your own personal game. . .

Your fists do all the talking.

And when all indignation leaves me.

You shout, "Fight back!" 

You yell, "Do anything!"

My reticence vexes you.

The tables never turned. . .

But I guess you never learned,

Your pain 

Brings me no gain.

So instead the table has flipped.

The truth brought to light,

Your teary eyes wide open.

I'd say I feel bad,

But I must admit I'm kinda glad,

My situation is no longer crammed.

You wanted attention,

Now look you're on display!

What you've done is engrained,

In each and everyone's brains.

Too late to take back the pain.

The tormenter became the tormented

There is always someone to blame.

Once it comes around it goes around,

A pattern on repeat.

Only this time . . .

With a clear mind,

A shaky voice,

It's hard to stand tall,

With your chest puffed out,

To say it proud.

But the loop must end. . . !

They don't see how they regress!

There's no one left to impress.

There's only a personal mess, 

That depresses the very best.

Pain is the gain in this crooked game