I saw resentment clearly.
He was harsh and tense, filled with battle scars.
He turned and took hefty, angry steps in my brain.
I saw his balled fists, his toughly furrowed eyebrows,
and all hell broken lose, a war of rage inside his eyes.
I heard him breathe heavily,
and I felt so bitter.

Who are they** to tell
That in my life
I am not doing well

Who are they to say
That from my path
I went astray

Who are they to judge
The me who has been wronged
But they didn’t care, they didn’t even budge

Who are they to call
Me some names, when they were the ones
Who drove me up against that wall

You were a poison
An exoskeleton of the lies you built around you
Your sole purpose; hate the world for the wrong done to you even if some of your pain was by your own hand.
A deadly plague infecting and wiping out the surrounding villages
You knew not of pure air
Just layered muck filled with pollutants, black tar and Crystal.
Oh how you loved Crystal
A true serpent with ice cold eyes
Luring in your victim and ******* the corpse dry
An endless circle of distraction, but you could never escape your mind.
Take a look back through history
Paints a clear image
All tyrants are brought down by a lesser Evil.
You too shall fall.

The grass may be greener on the other side
but I’m still on the white picket fence
that we built ourselves with ply,
a wall to the world useless for our defense.

Deciding between you
and them,
between our crumbling foundation
and a long road ahead,
between resentment and
regret,
this is where I sit,
on the fence.

-bes-

it faded like slavery
but the screams will not.
not this time
not with this much
involvement
my body,  a strawberry

strawberry,  begging for fondue
slavery begging for an end
involvement is too exhausting
nor giving any relief,  so
much energy spent slowly,  as if dripping
time wasted

wasted time, wasted life, dipped in a bitter
fondue, unpleasant and messy
dipping of bitter lips until the bitter
end, *** empty,  needs washing, another
exhausting task, requiring to much
involvement, too much effort

Effort is what i can't give, I'm
bitter about that and angry. With too
much resentment, just growing inside me. More
messy baggage,
another issue, as if I don't already have enough. So im
bitter,  so what?

What difference does it make?
I'm to battered for repair,
I'm to exhausted for any attempt at anything

Our words were once kind, but they have since been laced with venom.

Our heart was once warm, but it now only burns from the ice it pumps through our veins.

Our pen once wrote praises, but now only blood spills upon the page.

Our smile was once gentle, but we have filed our teeth to fangs with our failures.

Our soul once knew love.

But it was only pretend.

Our resolve was once mighty, but it has been broken by shattering defeats, poisoned by false loyalties.

We wish to speak, but even our words have abandoned us, just as lovers past.

We wish to scream, but we will only be answered by the echoes of our fortress.

We wish to write, but cannot bear the pain to lift the pen.

We wish to have her.

But she has ran to the arms of another.

She once gave us serenity, but now only provides torment.

She once illuminated the skies above, but now we only cower in darkness.

She once held our heart, but now our hands bleed as we hold the jagged pieces together.

We were once hopeful to find solace in companionship.

*What a fool I am.