I Was Never the Villain

I was never the villain

I was the mirror you dared not face
 the one that held your gaze too long,

revealing truths you buried beneath
 tight-lipped pleasantries and practiced grace.

I was the storm that shattered the silence
when your comfort begged for stillness.

The lightning flash in a sky too accustomed to blue.

The unwelcome gust that scattered 
all the illusions you clung to like lifeboats.

I was the spark 
not to burn, but to illuminate.

Yet even light wounds eyes grown used to darkness.

I was never the villain

I was the mirror you smashed in rage,


when what stared back was not me,


but the pieces of yourself you swore never to become.

I was the storm you summoned 
with your hush-hush truths and hidden screams.

The shadow that curled quietly
 behind every lie you whispered to your own heart.

I never asked to wear your fears like a crown.

Never begged to be the beast in your bedtime tales,


the exile in your dreams.

You made me the monster 
when you needed something to blame.

You wrote the story with trembling hands,
pressed the script into mine
 and called it destiny

But villains, too, remember.


And I remember everything.
The silence.
The shattering

The weight of your truths
bleeding through my hands

I was never the villain

I was only ever
 what you could not bare 
to see.