It Was Born a Woman
Cruelty was born a woman, and brutality a man. They are very different, but play hand-in-hand. Brutality can be cruel, and cruelty can be brutal. But there is an elegance to cruelty that brutality can never have; just the same as brutality has a blunt force trauma to it that can never be cruel in of itself, only the perception therein.
Cruelty vexes me so, I am merely brutal and it falls on those whom have suffered to perceive it as cruelty. It isn’t always the case. This is troubling because, no matter how hard I try to be apathetic so that my actions may truly be cruel. She... cruelty, I mean, is capable of making things awful for what they are; her actions are poetry, dark and twisted poetry that makes those whom witness it weep at the very root of her indifference.
Brutality is incapable of such elegance; and though cruelty lacks the design of true artistry, it is elegant in its feint. Brutality suffers the empathy of objectivity. There is reason, beyond itself, to be brutal; a subtle difference between the two. Brutality lacks the anonymity of cruelty, and for that it suffers its own purpose.
So here I sit, within the wake of man, sheltered by my shadow as the alley walls seemingly close in around me. I am not homeless, I am not poor; but like my shadow, I carry the weight of those around me. Hindered in a slump, my shoulders have begun to give out. There it is, though, the answer. It is hideous, like the mold that cruelty has shaped. But it should cower, because just as she has no purpose; my brutality does and that should frighten her.
I am not forgiving, not anymore. The furtherance of the manipulation of her emotions with your attention whoring, there is not a force capable of stopping me from making you wish it was just a cruel nightmare. My brutality will shake the foundations of your thought, you are not loving; you are not capable of knowing what love is. You’re as pathetic, as you are apathetic. You have sheltered the fruit of a shy presence and all you do is possess it. She does not belong to you, and it is unfortunate that you weren’t able to realise that until now.
