Nov 2020
I’m angered by the way that I am,
Though, I am not angered at myself,
I hate the man that I see in the mirror,
Though, I do not hate the man who sees that reflection,
I despise the person that I am,
Though, I do not despise the person of whom I’ve become,
I fault the illness that controls my mind,
Though, I do not fault my mind for being sick,
I’ll always hold this grudge against you for making me this way,
So why—given all of this pain and hate—do I still hope you’ll love me someday?
Brendon S. Sawyer
2020
Though, I am not angered at myself,
I hate the man that I see in the mirror,
Though, I do not hate the man who sees that reflection,
I despise the person that I am,
Though, I do not despise the person of whom I’ve become,
I fault the illness that controls my mind,
Though, I do not fault my mind for being sick,
I’ll always hold this grudge against you for making me this way,
So why—given all of this pain and hate—do I still hope you’ll love me someday?
Brendon S. Sawyer
2020
A short poem about being a young child who was given an unloving and abusive father who, after 11 years of physical and mental abuse, abandoned the child (and family) without warning or trace; and about the lifelong battle with mental illness that burdens me every day.
(27/M/Dallas-Fort Worth)
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