Tuesday, August 5, 2008

Pointing fingers at knife wounds

I'd have to tell the story again to make it clear to you.

It was a nagging urgency, a familiar feeling feeling and even I couldn't talk me out of it.
So I had to say it.

I knew I'd be "sorry" eventually.

So I took a seat and read deeper into my past

Once I found It, It flattened me immediately. I shook my head in disgust but It was as clear as the scars on my back.

He existed.

And that fact alone
made me want to vomit.

Finally did find out what it is about me.
There is security in turning around...
never looking back...
getting stabbed repeatedly...
I"ll never tell.

I'll run.
Away from the pain of being found out...
left defeated again...
left spitting out the teeth that hold my tongue in it's proper place...
left standing again on the feet I need to carry me away from you.

I swear I will not crawl to your feet exposing the back I've turned
close enough for you to see the scars you've left me with.

But I will go through with this nagging amend I need to make.

And hope to stop punishing the rest of em who are clearly not holding knives.

I am the grudgeholder pointing fingers and exposing my scars.
stirring my own poison pot as if it will make you die.

The fun fact about being left...
is knowing I will still be standing
and with that...

There can be no more fear.

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