I understand that the world does not seem to provide you with the calm you seek.

But of course if you continue to slither on your belly to get ahead,

feet will continue to step on your sores that are open.

As open as your need to find fault in others to stand higher above the rest.

You find comfort in your perversions, only because you can’t escape them.

In panic you lash out forgetting you are deeper in the filth than the ones you point fingers at.

Like the ones that came before you, you have a space in my heart.

Like the ones that came before I saw them naked…

I accepted what I saw, I ignored the sharp things that you carry

the glass in your heart.

Your words are of a child with nothing left to do but to break things.

I have empathy for you but I also have respect for myself.

Your actions are your word.

Malice, misguided and tormented.

I don’t mind, I saw them before they left your mouth,

trapped in your belly unwilling to compromise, unwilling to be soft and gentle.

But that is all anyone has given you since that’s all you know.

When you thought I was being judgemental I was just watching to see

how you unravel by your own accord.