Misstake
Fidget, fidget, as I peeled my trampled heart from a sleeve that hides
the scars the stories never tell.
On cupid's arrow impaled like a harpoon, the poison barb wrenched
free, whimsically and without care.
My thoughts turn to the spiteful word-play, pinning the accusations on
the donkey foolish enough to stumble for one so unworthy... a game
played by no rules other than 'Because I'm right!'
Only now do I stop to seek asylum from your lunacy.
I'm under attack from the enemy within. Feelings of unworthiness
buried deep inside, sowed with no remorse, carefully nourished as you
could nurture nothing else.
What hideous reprisals shall spring from such contumely seeds?