Darts of poison

Why is everything a manipulation, some form of guilt laid at my feet.

This constant game of making me feel inadequate.

Darts thrown, sharp little poison darts spun from words hurled at me with intent. Meant to cause pain, small scarring words.

She throws them without regard, never stopping to think how she wounds me.

I know the person in her past responsible for her actions, he threw them at her when she was still a child. Cutting her deeper than she could ever cut me. His poison darts infected her. Her young soul unable to fend off the abuse. So now she too throws poison darts.

But my skin is thicker, my ability to heal from the poison more pronounced. My childhood giving me protection from this abuse.

How long will I endure her jabs, how long will I wait for her poison to fade from her being, to reveal her true essence without any of the baggage handed to her.

As long as is necessary.