is what I tell myself.
Words don't count,
and I'm not about
to play the card that brings me down.
The larger the charges I level against you
builds a taller wall I have to climb, and
a greater deal of healing that I've got to do
were I to call you on your crime, and
I'm not about to knock the rock that knocks me down
so you can keep your crown for now.
I see it happen
is all it takes to bring it back.
Statue-still and staring,
I stand as if uncaring,
but the truth is that I cannot move.
Horrified, I watch as you reveal yourself in strangers
whose children use my voice to scream, and
terrified, I forget that I am not the one in danger,
I watch them cower as they plead, and
I try to be the hero no one was for me. My chest
explodes as I tell them "Stop!", it will not rest.
I will put to paper
the very last poem I'll ever need.
Each time I say
today's the day,
I know it in my soul, I'm close.
I'll strike a chord within myself that takes away the fear.
Like smoke I'll blow away the weakness, that
always seems to draw me down and keep me here
where I turn in circles of deep deathless rants
to find out why I'm here again, breathless and wild,
dwelling inside the mind of a child.
I won't be weak again,
I won't be triggered again.
Just once it happened (to me),
and that's far not enough
to justify this self-indulgent, infantile fear
of an old dying bitch who can't hurt me again.
I'm sure that somewhere in me lies a key
in a song, in a word, in a shout,
in an impetuous act of recklessness perhaps.
Just once I'll get mad enough to finally blow my top