My Own Flesh And Blood

This feeling


It isn’t just when I stop talking because no one is listening


It follows me


It’s with me


It is me


Not entirely me, but a part


And that part has a loud voice


It’s criticizing itself because oddly enough, it’s truly the only thing that knows everything about me. So it can gives criticism for something no one else can or will. 


No one else is going to say shut up, and if they do "it’s not coming from the same place". No one is going to call me dumb, and if they do "they’re even stupider". 


This part, this voice, has taken an odd role


It’ll hate me the hardest, unless someone doesn’t like me


Then all of a sudden it tries to protect me from the harsh elements, shielding me but in the process blinding me and shutting me out.


Sometimes it agrees with them though


Takes their words as truth, then makes it hurt on a deeper level.


I could say fuck this voice


But it kind of knows what it’s talking about


At my lowest, I’ll listen


At my highest, I’ll laugh at it


And somewhere in the middle I’ll give it the love it’s been missing


If it’s so full of hate that I keep putting into it like a piggy bank


So what if love doesn’t go there, I’ll make it go there


Lost cause or not


I’ll change it


All the profane names that stab me will no longer be a kitchen knife but a spoon


It’s going to take patience


And I’m going to be mostly alone


For no one else can understand this part of me


Because it’s entire existence stems from


Every single thing I’ve done, said, experienced, tried, dreamed about, feared, loved, hidden, ran from, and been.


It is my own flesh and blood.




  • Tristan Robert Lange

    Wow! Just seeing this now. Incredibly deep, vulnerable...I totally could relate with this. Thank you for sharing!

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