Why should I still cower
when you rage?
Why should I escape
to this mental cage
and be afraid?
Why should I feel shame
when your teeth grind?
Why should I feel tamed
and leave my fierceness behind?
Why should I pretend that you protected
me from the collective
hurl of deprecation
through your words,
or the implications
of insults unfurled?
Slander me.
Tear me apart
from limb to limb.
Question my heart;
expose my sins.
I never claimed perfection;
I know I’m hopelessly flawed.
I’ll never rise to your expectations;
my faults are much too raw.
But I take responsibility
for what I do,
and hope for the possibility
that you will too.
