Scars

February 19, 2012
By , Kamuela, HI
I am the friend of the wretched,
The bullied, the abused, the victims, the loners
-they come to me,
Attracted as if I am a lighthouse in a storm,
A beacon that they come to,
They approach, and I know who they are and what they need.
Because I am the only one,
Who doesn’t whisper about them behind their backs,
Mock them from exclusive cliques,
I am the only one that doesn’t judge,
And when the wretched come in droves,
I am suffocated by their need for attention,
But I carry on,
To the brink of exhaustion,
Until I snap, and lash out to give myself some space,
And I see bewilderment on their face as I hurt them,
For the one person who they thought
Would be there for them always,
Has hurt them more then anyone else ever had.
Because they had opened themselves up to me,
Trusting,
Leaving opportunity to come knocking,
It was only a matter of time.
And then they retreat, a wounded animal,
Another scar on their back,
And I am plagued with the memory of their hurt,
And it haunts me.
Even though I tried to be kind,
I am the monster.





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