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Poetry

Pity Parties

This damsel was not in distress, more like confinement

So self-sufficient that it efficiently kept me closed off

The one who made it bad for all left remnants of his doing

I wore that hurt like clothing

Self-love was my friend, it put me back together like lego pieces

I was so solid in self-affection, that it glued me to independence

So independent that I was the privilege and luxury

I set expectations so high that no man could reach

that was the problem

My walls were higher than Mt. Everest

I expected them to climb through my self-defense avalanches,

in hopes that they find the reward, me

I was the princess in the tower, yet I controlled the dragon

I became mad when they all failed to rescue me from loneliness

I was still bathing in hurt

my fragrance of choice was fuck them all

I put a bandaid on a stab wound and called it healing

I never looked back at that wound until today 

 

I’m tired of not dealing with it, so here lies self-sabotage

I’ve had enough pity parties.

If you like this article, check out: https://www.harnessmagazine.com/in-search-of-self/

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by BraveBee

Brandi, often called Bee, 30 years old and from Detroit, Michigan. I'm quite simple when it comes to things, but I love Art. I just feel that my purpose in life is to be creative, I feel it in my bones. As I continue to grow as a writer, I let go of the expectations to express; I just write what I feel and experience.

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