I can't take anymore of your half truths.
I can't bear the weight of your passive aggressive disdain.

A simple text "hi" from you is a throwing star into my brain.
A touch from your finger and, like cloth, my skin parts.

Broken open and alone.
Broken with a splintered heart.

Is compassion this difficult for you?
Is it OK to always take away my power?

In the depths of your heart all you wanted was to control me.
In my own defense, now I can't wait on you to text me back for another hour.

I won't let you lie to me or ignore me anymore.
I have to find a way to live without you.

This is the end of me being the kind of person that would let you use me for your own sick mind games.
This is the beginning of me made new.

A trillion little pieces fall
and I am lost amidst them all.

Helter skelter flurries fall
on the pell-mell throngs below them all.

And who is left to be a guide
when Mother Earth and Father God have died
and alone with furies you abide?

Then in your soul, sweep clean the streets
and salt the earth beneath your feet
till your resolve and trials meet.

A trillion little pieces fall
I make a way despite them all.

Helter skelter flurries fall
on the pell-mell throngs below them all.

A morning breeze can reach me still
slipping through this window sill
my bones absorb the turgid chill
but an inner flame, cold is loath to ****.

How can a flame be kindled though,
sitting in a winter bough?
No kind leaves remain to show
a way to melt life's hateful snow.

Below the world spins its web, builds its maze
and leaves me in this doubtful haze
still I can wait, despite frozen malaise
on a spark to reignite new compassionate days.

I'm not your responsibility?

You can't make hate to someone every day without their consent and say that their self-loathing isn't your baby.

I knew it was yours at the moment of conception, but there is no child support to paid for a stillborn rage.

Six years of tender loving wasn't enough to soften your stony heart, but it only took nine months for you to tear me apart.

This is a cold dead love and it has your eyes. So when you look at me, and all I see is the aborted hope of compassion how is it not your responsibility?