The Soft Splat

The door swings shut,

Do not disturb.

The slamming rattles the door frame,

And my soul feels the force.

Home is not a word,

I knew before this place,

And I doubt I’ll know it after.

My little space.

Surrounded in me.

A place where I belong.

And then you come in like a storm,

Shaking the foundation,

Leaving nothing but devastation.

Home has turned hostile.

I can’t even look at you.

Insurmountable rage builds,

Into,

A force,

I,

Can’t,

Contain.

I am shaking with the pressure,

Of not screaming in your face.

Telling you all the reasons,

You are what is wrong,

With this place.

This time.

This world.

I hate everything about you.

The way you carry yourself.

The way you say my name.

The way you spread derision.

Manipulation only gets you so far,

And when all this is over,

Only one of us will be standing.

And I can’t say with any surety,

That it will be me.

All I can say,

Is that I will not stand,

To be treated like a pet,

Like a resource.

I am more than that.

I am a person who took a sinking ship,

A titanic failure,

And turned it into,

A flagship,

Of harmony.

Of love.

Of communication.

And you have punched holes,

In the hull,

Wide and yawning.

And you swing to point the finger,

At anyone but yourself,

Despite the blood,

Dripping from your knuckles.