The Dance

The Dance
By Shanta-k



How could you be so blind and self-serving as to
see a miniature you ?

You use Motherhood as a vehement tool, defining who you are by twisting and shaping the void within you with air.

Spewing fourth misguided knowledge of love, religion and loyalty with a child’s frustration.
Expectations of love and adoration from a blank slate.

Angry, dependent, confused, scared and damaged, hidden behind the guise of capability.

Rage reveals the screaming child within demanding currency of the soul.

I loathe the self-centered essence of you, siphoning clarity demanding obedience.

You are my own worst enemy.

Daggers of love aimed, ready, fully loaded with garbage from your soul,
Patiently waiting for my weakest moments
Questioning your sincerity with heartbreaking clarity -I bleed.

You are smug in my darkness, celebrating, encouraging my chains.

Vexatious in your loving advice,Ignorant of whom I am.

With my truth, your querulous support celebrates the wounded inner being of a soul, desperate for light in your chaotic misanthropic dance of the dammed.