Your weakness is this:
You lack all self-control.
Send me your problems,
Make them my Fault.
Drown yourself in the sea of smoke,
Ignoring what repurcussions may follow.
Why do you do this to yourself, your children.
Each day becomes uncomfortable, depressing.
We don't want it, you don't either.
But do any of us really care?
Just shout, scream, let out your fury.
Make everything seem gone...
It's not.
Hidden it is, and growing. The need for anger.
Your most hardened addiction.
Break them both in unison.
With each inhale, you bring yourself closer to Death's dwelling.
With each irate tantramous rage, we begin to border on insanity.
Don't let us jump. Or we will never return.
Is that what you want?...
Partly yes. In your anger you become blind to your own desires.
And replace what they may be with what seems true, at the moment.
Deny it all, I dare you.
You'll just prove yourself to be the fool.
You hardly even know me,
Constantly compared to others I am.
Go ahead, make those comparisons.
Show everyone how unfamiliar I am to you
It's pathetic
The way you lie.
Raise your voice, clench your fist.
All to close up your wound of insecurity that never heals
Stubborn
...
Stubborn
...
STUBBORN
Sticking to your own opinions like it's all you have.
It almost is.
Unless you learn to accept, you'll lose us.
And it will be your life's worth.
____________________________________________
I wrote that when I was infuriated with my mother, so, it's more of a rambling rant than a poem.
