if truth be told, I’ll recount every lie ever sold
in a body so weak it can barely stand itself.

I twist on a knife-edge with perfect composure
with a scar tissue backbone
mind a chamber of torture,
heart beating the rhythm of promised departure
forever delayed, scarcely in sync
you taught me to think in verses of fragility
after you watched me grow into regression

and you thought you knew the epitome of suffering.

nothing could ever be relative to your fatality
your ghost will never haunt me
as much as your living memory
I hope every recollection rots
with my hope of ever feeling safe in my skin.

in death, I see you in life
every minefield you left behind
as post-humous reminders
of your wounded mentality
that bred a burden
and made you the ultimate victim.  
I’ll die before I surrender
to what you made me
by weaponizing my vulnerability
and putting me in the firing line.