It's hard to be an angel
when you grew up in Hell,
taught by the Devil himself
that hate is love and violence is affection.
When love was gunshots,
when affection was bullet holes,
when comfort was a single
dollar store trip bandage strip,
when warmth was naïveté,
when compassion was pity,
when patience was placation
and encouraging inadequacy,
it's hard to be an angel
when you grew up in Hell,
surrounded by flames,
when mercy is shamed.
When tenderness was a slap to the face,
when support was a knife to the back,
when concern was being told to stand up
after being pushed down the stairs,
when tolerance was weakness,
when selflessness was nonexistent,
when nurturing was cultivating
a world of incompetence and cowardice,
it's hard to be an angel
when you were guided only by tortured lost souls
who were guided only by tortured lost souls,
repeating the cycle for eternity.
When kindness was being allowed to eat,
when forgiveness was the silent treatment,
when mercy was forsaken
in favor of ruthless acts of war,
when you're told all of your life
that lies are the truth,
yes, it's hard to be an angel
when you grew up in Hell.
BINABASA MO ANG
The Things We Don't Talk About
Poetry***Trigger Warning: Mental health, mental illness, eating disorders, suicidal ideation, self-harm*** A collection of poems delving into the dark side of the human experience. From high highs to low lows, emotion can be intense. And this collection s...
