We always talk about
strength,
about pride,
about the hurt others caused;
we are the victims of our world
we look for pity.
for understanding,
we talk about the monsters
we didn’t unleash.

I want to talk about regret,
about the demons I’ve let out;
about the ache I burned in others hearts;
about the monster I’ve been in others
fairy tales.

I want to be raw
and true to myself.
I’ve never been good
or perfect,
or even alright.

My words have been like poison
and they have pounded in others’ hearts.
I have left people
to themselves
when they were at their worst.

I have used my power to hurt;
to insult.

There are people who carry pain
because of me.

And what is worse
is that I have denied forgiveness
to people
for things
I could have done.

I tweak stories
and tell lies
to make an angel
out of me.

I have excused
my actions
to myself,
to be able to close
both my eyes
when I sleep.

Sometimes I wonder
if I’d be
better off
dead.