I've Found A Way

"A truth that's told with bad intent
Beats all the lies you can invent."
- - - William Blake "Auguries of Innocence"

If we kept this going, eventually I would fight back.
Nearly two years of shirk, shy, duck and cover, but in the end I found a way for 5 feet to meet 6.
Then three and a half years of flame-retardant bridges and missing vertebra. Its own brand of love, certainly, but acres of experience lost to 6 feet 4 inches of complacency. I could not fight for two.

So now, when you take that tone. That tone you say I project upon you. I'm out of practice. I can't stand up. A stolen punch to the throat or a swift kick to head and that's all I've got. The rest congeals and stops up my throat and nose, stops my heart and tongue.

In time, I could meet you at eye level. You're shorter than the rest, anyway. In time I could stare you right back down. But I'm not even sure if that's the point of this exercise. This triangulation has worn me thin. I need new shapes and colors for my lenses. I don't need to win. I just need to stop crying.

And tonight I realized the following: You can never hurt me as deeply as I can hurt myself.
Now that's a little twisted, but when scrounging around in my pockets for some strength and some fortitude within the context of a particularly unpleasant conversation - the memory of this will serve me just fine. Your measured wrath, the extent of which I have yet to see, will still never surpass my own ferocity and severity of self. So really, I have nothing to cry about with you. You ain't got nothin' on me, darlin'.