An Ailment Called Myself
I am trouble spelled out to sound like innocence,
a clever decoy to pose my cruel decisions as good intent.
Peel back my soft edges
and you will find broken glass, bullets and evil things.
I hide the dangerous parts of me so well
my favourite role to play is the victim.
Always the one being hurt
and never doing any of the hurting
but behind hazy eyes
and battered confidence
lies oceans of dishonesty
skies of infidelity
and a universe of an entirely different woman.
I am never
who you think
I am.
poem by Vanessa Grixti
Added by Poetry Lover
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