she held him in her tightest grip
like a wrestler pressed against another
during a deadly fight
she was talking about others
down to the smallest contemptible detail
she did this, said that, made a face
but all I could see was a narc stating her rights
not right, just splinters of nasty nature
spitting and spluttering like a broken-down car
in need of repair, but never has the time
as narcs will never admit it’s their fault
they just tend to their child’s wounds
although, mind that, they never know
only we, who are abused by them, can realise this
yet this knowledge must never be released into the air
only locked up forever in a poem like this in a distant reality
to be read by people who can understand
as they were on the same side as me
looking at it and weeping for humanity
losses and ridiculous rules surrounding narcs
and the worst is that
they empower others around them
who unaware
drowning in a version of the world that isn’t genuine
as the narcs’ point of view is contorted, crooked, not compared
with what is actually going on
in the minds and hearts of others
trying to avoid narcs’ stubborn stares
***
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About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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Letter to our Queer & Trans Youth
Hey, you. I thought I’d start this letter by telling you a little about myself, just so you know who you’re dealing with. I’m an emotional dad, father to three amazing kids who we met through the foster care system, and whose presence in our lives has really transformed my sense of responsibility to the communities that surround us. The connections we’ve made with one another, with our extended families, and with the communities where we live and look for belonging have catapulted us into this whirlwind of emotional tumult which, while not easy by any stretch of the measure, has also been remarkably healing. I realize ours is really only a one-sided chosen family, since our kids didn’t get to choose to live here, but I’d like to think that they did choose to let us love them, which allowed them to grow to love us. And I think that’s where I want to go with this letter- to a place where you can find belonging and healing- even if the pathway there may be peppered with some emotional tumult.
By F Cade Swanson4 days ago in Pride
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