I’ve Changed

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Abstract

my healing, forcing me to question what I’ve done.I now have boundaries to protect my inner soul. I’ve rescued my wounded child, trembling, fearful to displease your motherly role.I’ve taken control of what feels right. You answer my claim returning to fight.“You’ve changed,” you spit while curling thin lips, feeling my power you once had dismissed.“You’ve changed,” you shout, gathering people with your snake-like charm, planning your actions, causing me harm.“You’ve changed,” you speak, knowing I see through your mask. Your veil has fallen, lifting the dream.I’ve healed enough to view who you are, claiming to be caring,

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you drink from the bar. I see an unhappy creature missing a heart, feeling superior not knowing love’s art. You’re waiting for praise from such trivial things, lashing at weakness seen as vulnerable schemes.“I’ve changed,” I admit, seeing your form battered and torn.“I’ve changed,” I announce, refusing commands, holding my own against the status I’ve known.Your strikes and your poison, too much to engage. I build up in anger, filling with rage.“You haven’t changed,” I cry, realizing our past built on lies.Sad and disheartened, I now say goodbye.Copyright <a href="undefined">Christopher Madsen</a> 2021</article></body>

When healing creates growth you will see behind the masks.

You’ve changed. I hear you, striking words, meaning pain.

You’ve changed. I feel you, wanting me weak again.

You’ve changed. I listen to accusations drip from a bitter tongue.

You’ve changed. I feel venom towards my healing, forcing me to question what I’ve done.

I now have boundaries to protect my inner soul. I’ve rescued my wounded child, trembling, fearful to displease your motherly role.

I’ve taken control of what feels right. You answer my claim returning to fight.

“You’ve changed,” you spit while curling thin lips, feeling my power you once had dismissed.

“You’ve changed,” you shout, gathering people with your snake-like charm, planning your actions, causing me harm.

“You’ve changed,” you speak, knowing I see through your mask. Your veil has fallen, lifting the dream.

I’ve healed enough to view who you are, claiming to be caring, you drink from the bar. I see an unhappy creature missing a heart, feeling superior not knowing love’s art. You’re waiting for praise from such trivial things, lashing at weakness seen as vulnerable schemes.

“I’ve changed,” I admit, seeing your form battered and torn.

“I’ve changed,” I announce, refusing commands, holding my own against the status I’ve known.

Your strikes and your poison, too much to engage. I build up in anger, filling with rage.

“You haven’t changed,” I cry, realizing our past built on lies.

Sad and disheartened, I now say goodbye.