My Words. . .

It’s my words. My lines. My stories to tell.

It’s my memories. My pain. My own personal hell.

The monsters lurking in the dark. The never ending sleepless nights.

The shadows on the wall; disappearing with the morning lights.

The pain brushed under the rug. The performance for all to see.

You didn’t care, you didn’t realize. . You didn’t seem concerned with what was happening to me.

You chose to turn a blind eye, turning away from what was happening.

You were wrapped up in your own distorted reality & your dissolutions were maddening.

You never counted on others seeing beyond the lies.

You didn’t think outsiders would save me & wipe the tears falling my from eyes.

You still attempt to turn & spin & change the story line.

But these are still my words. . My feelings. . . Not yours; but mine.

So you can continue to make me the villain in each one of your scripts;

but the truth will follow each of us beyond the ever after to our permanent crypts.

While you continue to weave your web of lies for anyone & everyone willing to be fooled

I’ll keep pushing past the lifetime of being ridiculed.

I’ll forgive and move on but be reminded of why I rid my life of your toxins.

From this moment forward I’ll fight to never again feel boxed in.

You can continue to try and knock me down if that’s your life’s ambition

But for me I’m going to continue to love and laugh and cherish those who love me without conditions.

– Desiree Angelica Young –

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