#selfbetrayal
The kid in me stares,
through the wreckage I call my life.
His lips tremble with questions
I’ll never have the courage to answer.
His eyes do the screaming—
a silent howl that claws through my chest
and leaves me gasping for air I can’t find.
He stands there, barefoot and trembling,
holding pieces of me I swore I’d never let go of.
He’s asking me questions I don’t have answers to.
Why did I leave him in the dark?
Why did I trade his light for this hollow shell?
Why did I let the world win?
Why?
I want to tell him it wasn’t my fault—
that the cracks started small,
and before I knew it,
I was too broken to hold him.
But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?
He only knows that I was supposed to protect him.
And I didn’t.
I left him.
I let him to rot in the shadows of my survival.
I buried him under all the things I couldn’t bear to feel.
And now he stands here,
small and fragile and impossibly naive,
holding my guilt in his tiny hands
like it’s something he’s willing to forgive.
But I can’t forgive myself.
Not for what I’ve done to him.
Not for the way I’ve become everything
he used to fear.
Not for the way I let the world cut him up,
piece by piece,
while I stood by and called it growing up.
And God,
I want to tell him I’m sorry.
But what’s the point?
Sorry doesn’t unburn the bridges.
Sorry doesn’t bring back the innocence
I traded for armor that doesn’t even fit.
He watches me burn,
and I can see it—
the confusion, the betrayal,
the faint, flickering hope
that I might still save us.
But how do I tell him
that the flames are mine?
That I struck the match,
fed the fire,
let it consume everything we were
just to survive?
He doesn’t know
what it feels like to be gutted by people who swore they loved you.
He doesn’t know
how heavy it gets when you carry the weight of everyone’s indifference.
He doesn’t know
that there’s no bottom to this kind of pain—
just an endless free fall.
But he will.
One day, he will.
And when that day comes,
he’ll look at me again,
with those same pleading eyes,
that same puzzled look.
And I’ll still have no answers.
Just this fire,
and the ashes of who we might’ve been.
I want to scream at him,
shake him,
make him understand—
that this wasn’t the plan,
that I didn’t choose this.
But the truth is heavier than any excuse.
I broke him.
And I know it.
He looks at me with pleading eyes,
as if I can fix this.
As if I can go back.
But how do I tell him that I’m too far gone?
That the fire raging inside me
isn’t something I want to put out?
That I’ve grown to love the way it burns,
even as it devours what’s left of us?
He steps closer,
and I flinch.
I can’t bear it—
the hope in his eyes,
the quiet belief that I can still be something better.
Because I can’t.
Because I won’t.
He reaches out,
his tiny fingers brushing against my burnt skin,
and for a moment,
just a moment,
I feel it.
The weight of what I’ve lost.
The pieces of myself I’ve scattered to the wind,
never expecting that one day I’d want them back.
But I can’t hold him.
I can’t let him in.
Because if I do,
he’ll see what I’ve become.
He’ll see the ashes,
the emptiness,
where a heart used to be.
And he doesn’t deserve that.
He doesn’t deserve me.
So I turn away.
I let the fire take me.
I let the flames rise higher,
consuming what’s left of the kid
I couldn’t protect.
Behind me,
I hear him whisper.
It’s not anger,
or hatred,
or even sadness.
It’s worse.
It’s hope.
“Come back,” he says.
“Please.”
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Because the truth is,
I don’t know how to.
And maybe I never will.
So I just watch him watching me,
until he fades into the smoke,
leaving me alone in the ashes—
a stranger to the boy
I was supposed to protect.
I look for him in the mirror,
but he’s gone.
And all that’s left staring back at me
is the shell of someone
he used to believe in.
Jan 10, 2025
Jan 10, 2025 at 1:11 AM UTC
It started with a kiss.
A burn of acid across my cheek,
It's poisoned implication:
"Here, this is the woman you seek."
It followed with thirty pieces,
The weight cumbrous in hand.
Your wine and bread so exquisite,
Suddenly fell flat, turned to sand.
It climaxed with Damascus,
Truth a blinding light across my eyes.
I'd betrayed all I am for silver,
Cheered as you shaped my demise.
It ended with a field of blood.
My innards spilled onto the ground,
Blooded hands foraging:
"I was lost but now I'm found."
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 3:59 PM UTC
I know you're not in heaven
No.
The angels don't understand.
All they want is for you to conform to what they were raised to believe
come to church, go to God, and eat your vegetables.
Platitudes won't save me and neither will your optimism.
No, you're a demon like I am.
we don't like chaos but it finds us,
and we don't care because it excites us.
The peace we do find is robbed from us, by laws, bonds and expectations
when the laws are overturned, bonds broken and expectations shattered.
There'll just be us;
loners with the minds of stoners finally accepted by the blissful chaos that awaits us
Just you and I
I don't know who or where you are, or what you're going through.
But I know you're there, because this pain isn't isolated.
I know there are other people who hurt like me, and you're one of them.
But we'll always be alone, even united we're alienated
They call us "patients" but they mean demons, they treat us like a virus.
And it's so heartbreaking because you're my Salem when I open my eyelids.
I mean, you would be, if you were here.
Until then all we have is hope for the future and for each other.
Maybe you're already here and simply undercover,
but until your true side and true nature I discover;
I'll be here, dead on the inside but still fighting to be a lover
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
The pull of the tarot reveals nothing I don’t already know.
The High Priestess,
Cast upon her head.
Searing into me all my dishonesty and ill-intention.
The Knight of Pentacles,
Atop his sure footed steed,
Taunting me with the stability that I have squandered.
Strength,
Reversed to show the weaknesses of my character.
Relishing every insecurity in my being.
I reach to test my luck against the deck once more,
But it would be a hollow attempt to escape my past.
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 12:57 PM UTC