Poison Ivy

What happens when you mix renaissance-like sorrow with something crueler?

When the bitter tears you shed turn into a volatile explosion, an atomic bomb?

When it leaves you stained and dripping in blood, never satisfying the craving for damnation?

What if I don’t need salvation or deliverance, just freedom and power?

I’ve done a lot to try and redeem myself, haven’t I, my Lord?

I’ve been a good girl, I’ve been conforming to all the societal norms and silly little expectations

I’ve been the best of the best, the top of the class, the beauty to every beast I’ve encountered

But what’s the point if all they’ll ever see me as is some cheap, low-life imposter walking amongst them?

Isn’t it just a little unfair that they get away with it, being a bloodthirsty animal and all?

I’ve learnt that nothing ever good comes from greed, from taking more than you need

I’ve been starving myself in hopes I’ll have more space in their hearts to redecorate the interior

I’ve been fair to them but lately trying to be reasonable has gone out of style, it seems

I hereby promise to never let myself trust so freely ever again, my love

 You would think I was truly pathetic if you knew how many times I've questioned myself

Or perhaps you already know, just like all the others do too, but what’s new?

You can’t convince a group of clowns to stop laughing at a joke that wounded your ego

Perhaps the act itself didn’t hurt, but the thought afterwards was certainly salt to the wound

I would’ve never done this to you, I would’ve never left you to fend for yourself, I would’ve stayed goddamnit!

I’ve understood what it means to fight dirty, to be so brutal that it leaves never-ceasing regret in place of wounds

Isn’t it tragic that nobody but those who are obligated to and benefited from loving me, love me?

I can point to the bruises on my knees as if they were constellations, a cluster of prayer-lorn stars

I can’t help but feel sorry for myself, for gulping down the grief and getting on with it nonetheless

I push down the nicking fear of falling from the pedestal and balance on my tip-toes instead

God forbid they see me drop the mask of unwavering love and support for everyone but myself

“Repent!” they implore, as if all this sin can be washed away by getting on my knees

Still, I swallow my sobs and clasp my hands together and pray for justice and impartiality

And I let go of my teenage rage for once and intertwine my fingers together like poison ivy

And I plead for mercy, and I beg for sympathy, and I grovel for pity, and finally, I weep for liberty