You’re as callous as these dried scabs on my hands.
You’re as cruel as the splinter that pricks my skin
But which I pull and break to tiny pieces in the end.
You’re as hopeless as the end of a drama.
You’re as melodramatic as the lies you tell yourself.
But, trust me, I will show everyone how your stories bend.
You’re as gnawing as the migraines which pulse in my head.
You’re as caustic as this simmering poison you’ve created.
But it won’t be long before this contaminant spills over
And its ink runs back toward the very karma you penned.
–Written by Sandy Heights
Image by Michal Fošenbauer from Pixabay