I'm proud for you,
yet I shouldn't be.
I should be murmuring under my breath,
casting evil curses on you and beckoning everything you say.
But I'm not.
I should be boiling your death sentence,
threatening your life with a gun held to your narrow chest.
But I'm not.
I should be worshiping the evil ones to come and get you,
set fire to your bridge and watch it burn to bitty black ashes.
But I'm not.
I should be whipping you with till gashes appear,
try my best to break you apart.
But I'm not.
I'm simply sitting on my bed clapping my hands together,
being proud of how far you've come with your new life.