My anger has now become as parasitic as you were.
It keeps me up at night,
Raging, worrying, breaking, crying.
It takes everything out of me and leaves me with a bouquet of bitterness,
And in every moment of this heavy hate
I know the only way to rid myself of this box
Is to let it go.
Twisted isn’t it?
Almost as twisted as pretending to have cancer.
It breaks me,
Like you did
And I wish you had left it at that.
broken things can always be fixed,
but a bouquet of bitterness only fixes itself
to every other flower ,
that ever tries to grow in your soul.
There used to be flowers in my soul,
enough for you and me
only a bouquet of bitterness.