You tear yourself down and crumble into small fragments of bitter misery.
You cover it with a shield of mockery, malice, and deceit. Try holding yourself together like that.
You stomp through life in anger, shouting louder than anyone.
Cutting remarks keep you upright in a world where you feel mocked and judged.
You tear yourself down and crumble into small fragments of bitter misery.
You cover it with a shield of mockery, malice, and deceit. Try holding yourself together like that.
You stomp through life in anger, shouting louder than anyone.
Cutting remarks keep you upright in a world where you feel mocked and judged.
I used to be angry with you.
I blamed you for your deceit, your backstabbing, and your gossip.
You made me feel small, and your games made me sick.
The outside world always linked me to you—
You, who not only hurt yourself, but hurt me too.
Marked for life, forced to grow up far too fast.
It was frustrating, painful, and deeply sad.
You chose to stay. I chose to go. You held on. I let go. I discovered a world where I can be unapologetically myself. Where I can take pride in what I do, and do what I love. I’m surrounded by people who cheer me on and lift me up. I feel free and happy, steering my own course. And honestly? I wish the same for you.
And you?
You keep stomping, keep lashing out. Your eyes shoot fire, your mouth overflows with blame. Sneaky jabs, gossip, and spiteful comments. You rage and rant without pause. You parade through your life—proud, vain, and arrogant. But around you, it’s like a counting rhyme; fewer and fewer people remain.
I have forgiven you, But I’m letting you go. You can’t hurt me anymore. I am surrounded by love. If you must hurt someone— Let it be yourself.
I’m out.
When you harm yourself