why do I and everyone I love pick people that treat us like we're nothing?
the noxious cloud of fear follows behind my steps like a shadow
it tickles the back of my neck with it's whispers and it's promises
no one will ever love you
softness and simplicity raise the alarms
and the biting pain of sharp words feels like comfort, like home
the words of men who wish to see my soul, the mosaic of my being, are lost on me
while the slights of men who wish to know my flesh, to conquer the harsh metal of my armor, seep into my soul and live among my bones
you are not worthy of a soft love
because when all your life love looks like carnage and decimation and pain, love that is easy and simple and kind seems like nothing more than an act, a trick used by mortal men to infiltrate the altars of a long lost goddess
so you decide that men of mortal words and convictions of the flesh will not make a home in the great halls of your heart
you choose men that fumble their attempts easily, that can be spotted from a mile away
because it's not the men that come at your sanctuary with swords drawn that are the biggest threat
it is the men that walk softly into your sanctuary and offer up sacrifices to your altar and speak prayers of healing and peace that can bring this kingdom to it's knees
why do I and everyone I love pick people that treat us like we're nothing?
because these men will never use smoke and mirrors to gain access to our safeguarded hearts
YOU ARE READING
rage and recovery
Short Storya testament to the rocky road between rage and recovery and the thought that the two might not be so different after all
