You wanted to escape it; to free yourself,
A dove in the pantry; it wasn’t fit for you,

Maybe if things had been different,
Maybe you would have lived easier,

And you were oh so toxic,
My bones would melt from radiation,
From the hate spewed from your mouth,

But weren’t you taught that?

If your parents were not religious,
Would you still feel that anger? That hatred?
Would you still have shamed me for my own?

We could have ended things nicer,
I do not regret leaving at all,
But I do wish you had better support,
For those feelings to go somewhere,
Rather than back at me,

I dictate others emotions, their luck, their fate,
When I have a good day—I destroy their lives,
When I have a bad day—they get to be happy,
God is playing a psychological game with me,
But I can’t figure out the rules.

I must sacrifice my own happiness for others,
I must martyr my mental health,
Jesus dying wasn’t enough for this sick God
He had to inflict more pain;
Something worse than physical,
Mental.

I am Sisyphus, punished.
I must forever take the burden of a meaningless task,
And why? Just because someone above me
Commands me to, I must obey.
I too cheated death—I got better,
I escaped God’s grasp. I healed.
And now I must live with the consequences,
Of knowing how it feels to be happy,
But being unable to.