I wish to harden.
I am head to toe,
in lines and fractures,
filled with flesh that never fit back together
rushed and unresolved,
I am too roughed up to be gentle.
I have too many callouses,
to be this incapable of acting cold.
I have been violated in too many ways,
to be righteous,
to be honorable.
I am not proud, or pompous this way,
I so desperately wish to be the bad guy.
it would be so much easier.
I do not know who I would be,
if the violence I went through,
did not make me gentle,
but I want to.
Maybe, if I was kind to myself, I wouldn’t struggle to be firm towards others. Maybe I don’t need to be the bad guy after all. Maybe I just need to learn to let myself take up space.
In my fear of becoming him, I treat myself like I am. I am not.










