obsessed with yourself,
you speak to the rest of us in riddles
yet it’s not a skill i have mastered -

i have learned what it’s like to be really loved
and 30 seconds of a favourite song of yours on the keyboard
not to impress or brag
but to claim it back -
Hallelujah.

the wounds from your claws are healing
but i almost picked the scab,
a physical scar to match the mental one
though yours are bigger, deeper
right?
if trauma is a competition, you win
here’s the crown
keep the trophy -
a symbol for the love i once had for you
cos i’m waving the white flag
here’s to my victory