My Inner Darkness

I learned to hide my pain in her, because all the negativity, all the horrible emotions I felt. I knew people couldn’t be trusted. I knew people did not want to see me, or my pain. So I used her. I buried it all in her. I locked it in. Which is why when she comes out to play, she does not care who she hurts, she only wants to win.

 My inner psycho is my greatest ally and my greatest villain.
She holds all of my pain for me.
She comes out only
when there are no other weapons for me to use
to protect myself.
 
She is my demon, my mistress, my Harley Quinn, my Dark Phoenix.
Her power is intoxicating, vindictive,
she leaves the world in ashes and in awe.
No one sees her coming.
Because I am so warm, compassionate, loving.
And yet she dwells there, in here, with me.
 
Like the goddess of Shiva, she creates and destroys.
Destruction is her weapon of choice.
She was born in pain,
when I was young, when I was molested...
I learned to hide my pain in her, because all the negativity,
all the horrible emotions I felt.
I knew people couldn’t be trusted.
I knew people did not want to see me, or my pain.
So I used her. I buried it all in her. I locked it in.
Which is why when she comes out to play,
she does not care who she hurts, she only wants to win.
When the love of my life still loved another,
when he took her back and he left me to rot.
She came out with a vengeance and a fury.
From my first one-night stand, to the words I said to him
I cannot take back...words I said a year before he died.
He played me, used me, I felt cheated on and abused again.
Abused always. Like I was as a child.
 
And my inner friend, she took it all in then.
She takes it all in now.
You reminded me of him, she warned me then.
You did what he did, your parallel games, your other women.
And when I am offended, she lets it all come out.
She says what you fear to hear. She says hateful and mean words.
She uses all your weaknesses against you and then cuts you off.
She devours, she rapes, she pillages, she burns in her wake.
She has no conscience.
She hurts other people around her for her own sake.
She calls it her righteous indignation.
But I know and she knows too, she is not righteous. She is no saint.
She is just my pain. Pain. In its raw and rare form.
As a truly mighty evil, awe-inspiring thing.
How I hate to love her, be proud of her, as I sometimes am.
How I hate to be her, as I sometimes am.
But I always remember.
She is part of me.
She is of me.
She is not my enemy.
She’s just yours.