See, it didn't happen overnight,
I didn't just wake up one day,
Hearing the aimless voices in my Head.
I built them up,
I fed them everyday,
I fueled them with all they think,
I made them stronger,
Stronger than even I am.
See it as raising a child,
But the child becomes out of hand.
The child takes all you gave,
And uses it against you.
Now they're all grown up,
Now, after all I've done for them,
They have the audacity,
To tell me why I am,
And why I'm not.
They tell me how the hands I've fed
Them with,
Turn everything they touch into
Withering dust.
How the words I taught them,
Serve no importance in this chaotic
World.
They whisper,
When the moon is high in the sky,
That the hope inside my eyes,
Will be destroyed,
By the hate inside my heart.
The hate that they created,
With their painful words.
They tell me,
How no one can love me,
How can someone love someone as
Flawed as myself?
They say,
That the more I try,
The more I will fail.
But I have outsmarted,
Their threats,
And torments.
I have turned those empty sayings,
To fuel me further.
They tell me that my touch causes
Distress,
But I show them,
How with a swift movement of my
Hands, with only the help of a pen,
And a paper,
I turn blank space,
Into a universe filled with magic,
Beyond desire.
They tell me my words are useless.
Then answer this question with pure
Honesty, if my words are still so
Imperfect,
Look at how I speak,
And people turn to watch,
If my words were useless,
Why do they fill a room full of Darkness,
With so much luminous lighting?
See, I lied,
I knew all along what I was Creating,
I created monsters who told me I
Could never be enough,
So that I could easily prove them Wrong.
So that I could smile,
Knowing that I overcame,
Words full of so much hatred.
So that I could challenge myself.
I knew that perhaps if I judged myself
That no one else,
Would be able to be so harsh,
That no one else would be needed,
To be proved wrong.
Some will say that I am mad,
And perhaps I am,
But luckily I know,
That there's a method to my madness.
~n.s
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Justice
PoetryPoems... A place to escape to, to relate with. A world that is created with a single verse, and a universe that is created with a single stanza... Poetry...a place you can make your own.
