I Grew Flowers and Poetry from Your Hate

When you ignored my every desperate display of affection
For your incessant game of pity and manipulation,
I should have known.

When you told me fiery tales of all your insane ex-lovers
And painted yourself as the shameless white knight,
I should have know.

When you turned your back on all that you knew and loved
For a life and a clique that would only be yes-men and drain you dry,
I should have known.

When you pushed past every boundary without shame
Then berated me with tears and hurtful words,
I should have known.

When you turned me against my friends and played into my weaknesses,
The transgressions and insecurities that I still nursed like open wounds,
I should have known.

When you let me cry and scream the deepest and softest parts of me
Into your chest just to pierce me on through with your narcissistic plays,
I should have known.

When you stared at me with empty, soulless eyes
And repetitively rambled the madness of a crude siren song reject,
I should have known.

When you spat in my face and told me I was nothing
And dared me with taunts of suicide and violence,
I knew.

When you twisted my name and bent your story
Then shamed me for speaking my truth and standing firm,
I knew.

When my disorientation and bemoaning my plight became a repetitive joke
And both my peers and I grew tired of my lesson unlearned,
I knew.

When my passions were made clear to only be petty pastimes to you
And my self worth and progress to be meaningless except to paint you as my savior,
I knew.

When the clouds lifted for sight, love, and comrades to shine through,
The army of steadfast love and stubborn determination rallied around me,
I rose again.

When my childhood woes spoke their true names after all that has come to pass,
the woman in me smiled and knew how far she'd come...
And I fell in love with my story.

When my story presented itself as a masterpiece all it's own,
I both praised and rebuked my wretched, weary soul,
And began anew.

Karma ravished me and left me for dead and forgotten,
But the core essence of where my soul began and bloomed
Whispered from within.

The whispers turned into a roar and joined chorus with life itself,
With all the rage, the sorrow, the elation, and the hunger of a slave freed from chains.
I know my own soul.

Yours being desolate and pitiful
With the door to your truth
Caked with all the tar and lies
You've let yourself believe
Until even you do not know
Of the filth that comes from your lips
Because now filth is all you know.