Me , Myself and I

26

Hushed murmurs from outside voices told me I needed to forgive.

They were told a piece of the story, and decided for me that forgiveness was the antidote.

The piece they were told didn't capture the harrowing screams in the depths of the night.

The piece they were told didn't capture the days painted with abandonment.

The piece they were told didn't capture the unjustifiable hurt inflicted on me.

And yet they sat there, with the piece in their hands.

Handing me forgiveness.

What if I don't want to forgive?