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The anxiety of betrayal
A little red fox
Entered the forest one night
The moon failed to pass through the canopy
A dark crunch he felt, as he walked each time
He wasn’t scared though
He didn’t have a reason to be
His kin would find him
For sure there was no need to grieve
Until he remembered
That they weren’t the same souls he once knew
They’d abandoned him at the edge of the mountain
Nothing absurd or new
He was used to it
The quick silver changes
In their voices as they would play
In their expressions as they would say
“We love you”
But they wouldn’t change for him
“We'll understand you”
But they pushed him away yet again
They treated him like a criminal
When he’d try to be one of them
Don’t break your word, he’d cry
Only to be heartbroken again
“We’ll be kind to you”
Falling for that one promise
He’d foolishly landed up
Here at the edge of the mountain
Where he had once thought their temperament would never change
Hi readers! So the poem ends here but I wanted to attach a little piece from my thoughts. I would be grateful if you would read it and perhaps, you could relate.
I don’t understand why people do what they do. Sometimes they say selfish things, it hurts me but I’m told to get used to the ways of the world. Why must I bend my heart to avoid shattered glass from cutting through, why is it not them who are told not to break it in the first place. Either way, my heart ends up getting cut, and I end up back here to write it in poetry. For in no other way would the world understand if I tore it all apart one fine day. They wouldn’t think I smoked something or went insane, they’d know it was them who made me slowly turn against everything I thought I knew and everything I felt I was. They’d know that I did it not because I hated them, but because I hated the way I was supposed to not mind all the hurt and forget all the times my thoughts were conveniently left unheard. And if my ghost were to take revenge, it’d simply wait beside my grave for all the hypocrites who broke their promises and changed. For it was them whom I had leaned on to make the world slightly bearable, but it was also them who refused to share any burden of my faltering heart and tireless mind.
Copyright ©
Itara Imacoff
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