Every Last Drop

Gaslighting

I will not step up to guillotine

for the hope of a word, a gleam

in your eyes-- anything

that shows you acknowledge

our shared humanity.

I will not put my neck in,

not now like back then.

The judgment burned like fire

from the tip of pointed tongue: "Liar."

Yet, it was the cold callous despise

that took me, shook me, by surprise.

Spiraling deeper still.

Broken in mind, in will,

self-interrogating ruthlessly,

Is it true? Hands pounded on table.

Tell me. Is it true? Am I capable?

Am I who they made me out to be?

The guillotine was built for me.

I have lived a thousand lives,

and I've died a thousand times.

I cannot rewind, as much as I'd like,

but I can push a boat out with the tide.

You will search but not find me.

You can sneer but not define me.

Iron tested comes out as steel.

These eyes saw what was real.