You win!
Stand there with
Your trophy while your
Shambles of a life
Lays at your feet and
You pretend that the
Reward is far greater
Than what you squandered,
Not that you’ll ever
Admit it, that would
Require some measure of
Courage, in short supply
In the land of swagger.
As a child, she had to
Fight for what was hers,
Struggle against the
Feeling that she was being
Judged or wasn’t good
Enough in some way, that
She wasn’t really loved
Or accepted, didn’t matter.
Not so many years later,
She became externally
Successful, with all the
Trimmings and trappings,
But inwardly vowed to
Never again let anyone
Tell her what to do, she’d
Strike first and show them
Who was boss, she’d be in
Control all the time, a
Sullen emperor staring down
From her tarnished throne,
Giving the signal to
Sacrifice yet another
Miserable underling to quench
Her thirst for dominance.
There’s always that one
Individual who makes
Everyone else’s lives
Miserable, who has such a
Limited understanding of
Where he ends and others begin
That he tramples on all toes
In an unpleasant strut of
Unconscious self-centeredness,
Trapped in his own
Inflamed harshness.
All the same,
Searching for comfort
Over expansiveness.
All in boxes,
Complimenting each other
On their identical caskets.
All in a stupor,
Sleepwalking from
One reaction to another.
They clap gleefully
As the child dances —
A forced smile pasted
On his face,
Flailing wildly to
Keep their attention,
The only time they
Notice him.
Although he never
Noticed it himself,
It was clear
To everyone else
That he was strikingly
Adept at making the
Important people in
His life feel horrible.
No error too small
To point out,
No advantage too
Preposterous to duel for.
A hug withheld,
A judgment rendered,
The subliminal erosion of
An already fragile self.
When given a choice, she embraced
The path that made her blood boil.
Lashing out instinctively, a fight for
Self-preservation in every exchange.
Days spent making enemies,
Cultivating discomfort.
Evenings spent pursuing an
Online connection, anybody.
Unable to escape the din,
Unwilling to turn it down.
Each one more
Ordinary than
The other.
Competing for
Space, attention,
Recognition.
Hyperbole,
Embellishment,
Attempting to
Hide
Gaping holes.
It opens its wary green eye,
Suffusing the environs with a
Rotten, infirm cast of animosity and
Torment. It insecurely demands
Detail and explanation, stopping at
Nothing in its quest for answers.
Its vexation is a permanent parasite,
Leaching life out of all it penetrates.
