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How nice it must be to be complacent,
Like your words and your actions did not render me paralyzed and breathless.
You walk around validated and smug,
As though my stumbles permit you to discredit me.
Your entitled demeanor wrapped its hands around my neck until I was unable to speak,
While you stood over me with justification and assurance.
You took moments of my life-
Moments I can never get back.
While I wait for retribution,
I somehow also wait for my own.
I feel I need to prove my worth to you.
You chose to see what you wanted to see,
But you feel no shame in that.
It’s as though I am the one holding the gun while begging for my own life.
I can’t possibly live my life with you in it like this – you could destroy me,
Yet, living without you – knowing you will never know I am worthy and deserving of love is somehow more devastating.
I’m more afraid of being invisible to you,
Then I am of you killing me.
But the longer I stay, the more invisible I become.
The more I fade, the harder it is to fight.
And when my fire goes out, so do I.
So I am left standing here in this void.
The space between action and inaction,
Where both paths lead to death.
Perhaps, instead of choosing a path, I should choose me.
Find solace within my own flesh and bones,
Hold my own match to my own flame,
And burn so bright there’s daylight at midnight.
It is no longer with you or without you,
No, now it is me.
So go on being complacent,
It was more your thing anyway.
But stand aside as I take the stage,
And prepare for my standing ovation.

Photo: Flickr – Garry Knight

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