Ash Beneath My Feet

Menacing acts were hidden behind heavily bolted doors,
a cage trapping us within the repugnant devil’s lair.
Sanity gradually stripped away with age;
trust progressively diminishing alongside naivety.
Actions aren’t forgiven with empty apologies,
and monsters aren’t angels just because they wear wings.
Secretive glances are exchanged
at the slightest indication that I could despise my own blood,
but they lie when they say it’s thicker than water,
because clearly it means nothing if that blood is filled with malicious intent.

So take these useless memories that replay in my head
like a series of putrid TV shows that no one ever wants to watch.
I’ll stomp on the past like an old cigarette, grinding it to ash with the heel of my shoe
until they’re swept up by the wind and carried into nothingness.
Because that’s all you are to me now,
and that’s all you ever truly deserved to be.