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aali.oops

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since June 2019
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Corrorsion

June 24, 2019

 

There was once someone different in there.

Someone I loved.

Someone who I looked up to through my rose-tinted pupils;

 

I don’t know if the problem is that I grew up,

Or that you rotted away.

 

I know it by the sound of your voice,

It’s when you talk slow,

When you slur and dull your words.

Like you’re foaming at the mouth,

Its sloppy.

Like you can’t be bothered to focus the sounds.

 

Or by the look in your eyes:

Glazed over.

Bloodshot.

They’re not the same eyes from my childhood.

They’re far away from me.

 

I hate it in your words,

Your expectations and your demands;

Your reactions, harsh.

 

How can I respect you?

Even your own body is pushing you away,

But you don’t care.

You let the acid sit on your skin,

You let it corrode.

 

And I think about how you laid on the bathroom floor,

Unable to speak,

Unable to move,

After a fit of rage.

It becomes clear who is in control.

 

I wonder if there’s a point when the it doesn’t leave you

It seeps deep and stains your DNA

 

I can't fix you.

Only you can fix you. And you have to want to fix you.

 

You are changed. But not unchanging.

 
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