Never Eat Your Own Knuckle Sandwich!

Grudges.
Why do some cradle it with vigilance?
Like,
A crying baby first held as soon as their born into the arms of their dying mother?
Who knows

I let mine go,
But,
How is benevolence maintained when you are shrouded and targeted by those!
Mentally frayed by every blow hardly endured from their own fists?
As a tenderhearted man seeking atonement,
Your heart is spearheaded by an Anger only you can spark when you fail to use your voice and own it…
Beat to the white meat,
With a smile marred over time by swollen eyes…

See,
I just don’t understand!
How my heart is forgiving.
Because,
Anytime I’ve lent a hand?
I’d just end up sore,
Giving up too much of myself.
Pushing weight pulling me down closer to hell…
And,
Still I’d rise from perdition,
After taking blame for burnt bridges,
When I’ve should’ve looked away and kept walking from it while immersed in this,
State of mind,
So divine,
Found within the moment I took a stand and snatched back my life!

I,
Am tired of being seen as an older version of myself that does not exist,
Anymore!
Yet,
For one to hold a grudge of what I’ve done in the first place?
You would need to be stuck inside of a past they,
Themselves,
Abhor…
So,
With how exhausted I have been,
Does my retaliation even matter as I’ve gained peace from,
Ignoring all the demons knocking on my bedroom door…