Rude Satire

To every horrible soul of darkness inside a living flesh of God's art, I see you.

It's fine when you do it, but you get mad when I do,

And everytime I tell you the past, you claim it's a lie,

But the pain never died.

Go ahead and manipulate me with your gaslight,

Make it about yourself you selfish soul.

Why did I never complain about the times you've irritated me,

You'd get upset and argue about your existence if I dared,

I mean you matter more than everyone else I guess,

And nobody can exist around you.

Everything you think must be right even when people and books stubbornly tell you you're at fault.

Maybe one day you'll get off your high horse.

I'm too tired to argue.

I'll be too tired to respond.

When you do things that everyone hates, you make it seem okay,

But why can't anyone else do the same to you?

Do you hate the suffering you've inflected on others,

Pain you can never hold yourself accountable?

That's rude.

Thank you for showing me that I should respect myself and not bow like a servant.

And a little birb made me think of you when she said to think selfishly.

I don't like being selfish,

But it's easy to be selfish around people who don't care,

Watching their flesh blister as they've hurt others.

You're not sorry everytime you say you are.

“I'm sorry.” After every manipulative and disgusting behavior,

Hoping that I don't remember the C-PTSD ringing in my head.

My inner child cries and it is your fault,

She almost died and it was you always trying to steal the rainbows.

A soul that resembles a dark poltergeist.

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