Those vicious insults bounce right back
the burden of guilt is yours to carry
on your own bitter twisted back.
I hope those bricks are heavy
way you down
you are the cause of your own
Your cold stare makes me feel warm
your coldness only makes you wither
against your own internal storm.
I wonder what you see
when the shadows come
a sad face of a mother
once proud to call you son.
The bully you are
kind you are not
awaits for you a lonely grave
in a dark solemn spot.
And when you look in the mirror
what do you see
not a kind reflection
like the one looking back at me.
Copyright © 2018 Charie Hasler.