Memories soar, uninvited,
taunting me with shaded truths.
They shatter through walls
that once were unbreakable.

A feral hunger snarls for vengeance,
consuming, implacable thoughts.

Brain stumbles on life—revenge is hopeless—
it begins to bargain: “Justice … the law …”
Empty promises weave delusions of hope.
The law is a ghost; beyond a veil.

The stomach churns, bleeding and heaving,
trying to expel the poisonous seed.
But there’s no relief—only bile and despair.

---

Through the blur of my tears, the world bends and warps.
But in that distortion, I see the truth:
There’s love in me—this hate isn’t mine.

It was given to me; I was gifted a curse,
a poison they planted to rot what was whole.
But my true Self—loving, untwisted—
endures beneath the borrowed darkness,
a cloak that shields the light within,
resisting the shadows they left behind.

---

I don’t see love—just hate, unyielding,
First them for their deeds, then me for submitting.
I am Uroboros, devouring my Self,
craving reprieve,
choking on the bitterness they left behind.

---

One day by chance, I forgot to hate,
and I felt the love of my inner Self.
It was quiet and patient, warmly embracing,
a hand on my shoulder, a rock to lean on.

Revenge is not me, justice’s not mine.
The love I have for my Self, for my Selves,
is both.

It brings me peace,
not by erasing the pain,
but by holding it gently
and showing me I am more.

It’s in that knowing—
love myself through the storm.
I’m at peace with myself.

Smile through the pain.
Self-love is the way.
Let healing begin.
Begin.