I am not the sum of my parts.
I am not the stars when it gets dark
I am not the shadow of my past,
and I am not a cloud, drifting by too fast.
I am all my memories, but I'm in my control.
I am what I love, but that's not what makes me whole.
I am all-consuming, I am things that make me human,
I'm not you or him, or full of sin, and we were never ruined.
When I finally leave this place, I hope you never follow.
You have let yourself become the bane of every good tomorrow.
Out of all the things I am and all the things I'll never be,
the worst I've ever been is in your phony family tree.
Every hurt you caused, you leave plainly disregarded.
Every horror you brush off leaves our lives strange and morbid.
He hurt her, and you know it.
They both did.
So don't come to me like I'm the one corrupted.
Take your passive, coward, bastard ways of helping somewhere else.
I am not the only one angry.
Hate me, please.
YOU ARE READING
Ode to Life
PoetryIt's chaos to figure out how to live. To love yourself, to love others, to create, to destroy. It's just life. But maybe... just life isn't a bad thing? You can't have good without the ugly. This has all my poems combined, this'll be my only poetry...
