Righteous Rage

I saw this child I love,

Suffering through a torture

This family shares to various degrees,

Most of us lived through it together,

But this last child is living alone,

As what once was a woman,

Has morphed,

Into a monster,

Overtaken by her own demons.

No one seemed to understand,

The loss at stake,

In that girl,

Valuing the ease of a short-term status quo,

Over long term efforts,

Without guarantee,

My rage had no borders

Even in the face of the other survivors,

They understand, know better.

A story in passing,

Doused the fire,

As it lit for my eyes

The gaping wounds I had not seen,

Still oozing and aching.

Even the purest injured Saint cannot reenter the battle for mercy and hope.

Published by sickybeat

I am a writer with an extremely active imagination. I love learning answers to questions and what makes everything and everyone tick. I am a "Unique case, medically" if nothing else. I am flawed in my extreme aversion to failure (even when "success" isn't good for me,) but have come a long way in ditching the perfectionist mindset. I like people whose default setting toward others is compassion, an open mind, and honesty

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