Would you kill me
for your failures?
Would you hurt me
for your regrets?
Would you cut me
into pieces
for things
that haven’t happened yet?
I know we’re all
walking wounded.
I know we’re all
made of stars,
but I am not
fucking stupid;
I’ve learned from my scars.
Love ought to be enough
to cure any sickness,
but it doesn’t seem it does.
We end up like this;
uncaring,
and jaded,
and losing each other’s trust,
all because of pride
and fear,
or whatever excuses we make up.
Lies to tell ourselves
we’ll be alright,
if we only visit hurt
upon the others.
That little voice inside our heads
that justifies our treatment
of one another.
And then from there
the black abyss,
the never ending spiral down.
For there is always something
worse than this;
I think you’re starting to see it, now.
Kill me for your own defeats.
Torture me for your shortcomings.
Hurt me like they hurt you.
You know I’ve got it coming.
So easy to convince
ourselves
we are weak
and we need justice
for the sins
we perceive
against us.
We love
to put on the judge
and the executioner.
We become
what we fear
so easily.
HG – 2021
