I am not the author of your story As much as that saddens me to admit You are the wordsmith of your tale You write yourself as the hero of your own journey Despite being so often the villain of mine But understanding how you see your world Understanding that you can be none other Than the hero of your pages Helps me gain perspective into why You write me as the arch-villain of your narrative
There is no mirror in your story You cannot see yourself And as if bespelled You see only monsters and Enemies in every shadow My pages would describe the cause As a self-afflicted curse Yours would imply the question Are villains born or made? For you would say you are The result of what others made you Be you hero or villain You are forever alone Shadowboxing every perceived threat And drawing blood from everyone Who gets too close for too long Blinded by pain and unable to See that the one causing The most pain for you is you Like a manifested destiny It becomes so
As our books sit side by side on the shelf Yours a story of never ending rage, war, and loss Mine becomes a story of surrender, retreat, and release For I am removing myself from your story It is time to make myself the hero of my own And write the closing of this chapter For I can feel the peace and love I deserve Waiting for me in the next chapters of my life I am ready to transform my story Into the self-love story I have long deserved I hope you find your happy ending I write a magic wish for that Into my final paragraph Of our chapter in my book Then turn the page to my tabula rasa Full of potential and possibilities And the freedom to write my future As rich and joyful as I can imagine it
Gold, yellow, red A carpet of leaves It crunched beneath their feet As they played in the light of the golden afternoon Cheeks rosey and hair wild Autumn had come
It echoed of all the things that have caused me the deepest pain,
and with nothing different or looking to be different, I think the final
piece of shattered glass crashed to earth.
-gws
If I am too much
Then let me be too much
I am light and expansive
And I will not be constrained
By those who wish me to be small
For like the wind
I will not be caged
-gws
Do you earn medals for hurting me
Because you treat it like an Olympic sport?
Are my tears some cocktail that intoxicates your soul
For I have cried oceans at your words and deeds?
Is my pain the wood for your spiteful fire
For it seems to always stoke your rage higher?
When did the joy we shared turn to ash?
When did that concentrated venom infuse into your words?
When did you develop such resentment of me to turn your eyes to depth-less stone?
-gws
Words Wishes and Wisdom 